


Evocation

by captainshellhead, vibraniumstark



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Getting Together, Identity Porn, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Silver Age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshellhead/pseuds/captainshellhead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/pseuds/vibraniumstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve decides that he should get to know the Avengers's benefactor better. Tony can't imagine why, but he's not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rating is for future chapters! Thanks to [Captain_Al](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Al/works) for betaing!

Tony eyed the pitcher of lemonade on the table, weighing his options. One of the many dilemmas he faced in his secret identity as Iron Man was that it made eating and drinking in public difficult. Doing so with any semblance of dignity was, more or less, impossible. 

Usually, he could suffer the indignity of drinking through a pink-striped bendy straw, but Hawkeye seemed to be feeling particularly _annoying_ today, quite possibly because he was unhappy about being removed from the grill, and Tony wasn’t interested in hearing his snide remarks. 

The armor was temperature controlled, anyway, which was more than the other Avengers had. 

“Any idea when Tony is going to get here?” Jan asked. Tony angled his helmet in her direction, so that it was easier for her to see that he was listening. 

“I don’t think he planned on coming,” Iron Man said.

“Well, why not?” Jan asked, and then turning to Steve, “Didn’t you invite him?” 

Steve had, although only in passing. It didn’t really matter in the long run, considering that Tony and Iron Man couldn’t both show up to the barbecue, and Iron Man’s absence would have been much more noticeable than Tony Stark’s.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “To an _Avengers_ barbecue. He’s probably got better things to do than eat hamburgers with you slouches,” he teased. He paused and took a bite of his hotdog, “I know I would, if I was filthy rich.”

Steve frowned disapprovingly at Hawkeye, and before they could begin to argue, Tony butted in.

“It’s a weekday. He’s probably at Stark Industries,” he said. He tried to sound dismissive in the hopes that the rest of the Avengers would follow suit.

“That’s true,” Jan said. “I couldn’t get Hank here, either.” 

“He has to eat sometime,” Wanda said. She was using a pair of tongs to turn hotdogs on one of the grills. At the other grill, Pietro was rapidly laying out and flipping hamburgers. Tony could tell that he was getting impatient with the speed at which they were cooking, but Steve hadn’t let him turn up the gas, earlier. 

They had already eaten an impressive amount. When Tony had purchased the food, he’d accounted for the number of people that would be eating, but he hadn’t really accounted for the number of super metabolisms. Next time, Tony would buy more steaks. 

Thankfully, the conversation moved onto more neutral topics—or at least, topics less focused on Tony—as Wanda asked Jan about her new designs with Press Week just around the corner. 

Tony caught Steve watching the driveway a couple of times after that, but eventually his mind must have wandered to other avenues, because he stopped watching long before the party ended. 

Steve did, however, announce to the group that the next barbecue would be on a Saturday, and no one seemed to take issue with that. 

 

 

Tony had thought that was the end of it. But then, it really should have come as no surprise when Steve cornered him a few days later, out of the armor, just as he was preparing to head down to the office for some much-needed face time. 

“Tony, hold on a minute,” Steve said, jogging down the last third of the staircase to meet him at the door.

“What’s up, Cap?” Tony asked. For a moment Steve looked a little nervous, worrying his lip silently like he was trying to work up the courage to ask for something. 

Tony smiled patiently. He had no shortage of somethings to offer, which was a concept that the rest of the Avengers had no problem grasping, but it still seemed like Tony (or rather, Iron Man) had to constantly twist Steve’s arm to get him to open up about what he needed. The man had gone nearly a full two weeks without a mirror after moving into the mansion, because the person that Tony had hired to furnish his room had forgotten to install one, and Steve hadn’t wanted to impose and ask for something that wasn't a necessity. 

Steve was probably one of the most annoyingly considerate guests that Tony had ever had.

“Would you like to go hiking?” Steve asked. 

Okay, that was not what Tony had been expecting. 

“Hiking?” he asked.

“You can invite Iron Man if you want,” Steve added quickly. “I just thought…”

He trailed off, as though he’d thought better of finishing the statement, but Tony wasn’t going to let it go that easily. 

“Steve?” Tony prompted.

“I just thought,” Steve said more firmly, “that you seem to exclude yourself—pretty consistently—from the team.” He frowned with faint disapproval, though it didn’t seem to be directed at Tony specifically, and added, “and I hardly know anything about you.”

“Do you need to?” Tony asked before he could think better of it. 

“No,” Steve said immediately. “I don’t _need_ to, I just...” He paused, and it was only after he continued that Tony realized Steve had still been expecting an answer. “I didn’t mean to pry, and I know you’re a busy man—” He continued, looking disappointed. 

“Sure. I’ll go,” Tony said. “Sounds fun.”

Actually, he had absolutely zero desire to go hiking, but Steve looked so eager for a yes... 

“You will?” he asked, as though surprised by the answer. “Great! Not now, obviously. I know you were on the way out the door.”

Tony glanced at his watch. It was true, he had been on his way out, and he probably needed to get going soon if he wanted to be reasonably on time. 

“Come find me later,” Tony said, already reaching for the front door. “We can pick a day.” 

 

 

It was a forty-five minute drive to the Palisades, thirty when Steve was driving, because he had a bad habit of viewing speed limits more as suggestions. He tapped the toe on his brand new hiking boots against the bottom of the dash nervously.

(He wasn’t really sure why he agreed to this.)

The car ride was pleasant, at least, and Tony spent most of the ride with the window cranked down all the way, one arm resting on the windowsill. He was probably going to sunburn, he decided, noticing in the bright sunlight just how much his tan had faded. He hardly ever made it out of the office these days, and his tan had suffered for it. He should have brought sunscreen. 

There were four other cars in the lot when they arrived, but it was hard to tell whether they belonged to other hikers or the small number of people jogging around the dirt track next to the parking lot. 

“How often do you come out here?” Tony asked, eyeing the moderately well-maintained hiking trail.

“Not often,” Steve admitted. “I don’t usually have the time, and it’s a lot easier to just go a few rounds in the training room.” Steve handed Tony one of the water bottles they’d brought along, and then locked the car behind him. “I do like it out here, though. It’s peaceful.”

“Better than the mansion, that’s for certain,” Tony said. Steve started down one of the paths, and Tony followed along, assuming that he knew where he was going. 

“The hazards of living with a team of superheroes,” Steve said. “None of us expected it to be peaceful.”

They began to wind their way along the dirt path and away from the parking lot. They reached a fork in the path, labeled with trail markers, and Steve didn’t hesitate to lead him down the right side path, which sloped gently upwards into the trees. They made small talk as Steve lead the way. 

The trail started out smooth and relatively cleared. It painted a pretty picture, scattered with leaves and framed on either side by thin, tightly packed trees. Eventually, the well-maintained parts of the trail started to become less and less recognizable, until Tony got the impression that they were no longer intended for the inexperienced hiker. There were more obstacles to step around, for sure, but Tony wasn’t one to complain so long as the incline didn’t grow any steeper than it already had. 

They did, after walking for what felt like forever, reach a point where the trail brought them right up against the edge of a short cliff, and Tony got to face the fact that he was much more comfortable with heights when he was wearing his armor. 

Tony was focusing so much on watching his footing, that he almost didn’t notice that Steve had slowed to a stop. It wasn’t until he saw the look on Steve’s face that he realized that he’d been speaking to him, and expected an answer. 

“I said, how are you holding up? You looked a little...preoccupied,” Steve repeated. He paused a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have thought this through a little better,” Steve said. “You, uh, don’t really seem like the hiking type.”

Tony hadn’t even owned hiking-appropriate shoes until this morning, so he was willing to cede that point. Also, he’d had a stitch for the last half hour, and it was only reaffirming his belief that man was not meant to climb in any semblance of “vertically up a cliff”. He was definitely not going to admit to having trouble keeping up with Steve, though, so he adopted a teasing smirk.

“But Iron Man does?” Tony asked. He poked Steve in the side, indicating that he should keep walking, and Steve complied without further prodding. “Seem the hiking type, I mean? You did invite him.”

“I invited Iron Man because I thought that things might get awkward with just the two of us,” Steve admitted. He squinted up at the sun. “I was right. This is awkward.” 

Tony laughed, and Steve gave him a small smile. “It’s just—I don’t know you very well,” Steve said a little apologetically. “I live with you, and I feel like I’ve hardly even met you.”

Tony shrugged. “Neither have the rest of the Avengers, but you don’t see them dragging me up the side of a mountain.”

“It’s hardly a _mountain_ ,” Steve said. Tony glanced pointedly toward the cliff’s edge, but didn’t argue. “And I’m not dragging you,” he added as an afterthought, frowning slightly. “You could have said no.”

“True,” Tony said, following the path Steve had just walked, but staying as far away on the hard-packed dirt trail as he could from the drop off. “So maybe I didn’t want to disappoint Captain America.”

Steve stopped. “That’s not why you agreed.” He sounded uncertain. “Is it?”

“Part of it,” Tony confessed. “Iron Man might have mentioned that I was missed at the barbecue. Had I known I’d be missed, I’d have made an effort to drop by.”

“You do more than enough,” Steve said. 

“Maybe,” Tony said. “But you can’t argue that I could be more available. Try to contribute _something_ to the team other than support for Iron Man.”

“Tony, you personally bankroll the team. You let us live in your home. Build us equipment—not to mention all that you do for Iron Man.”

“Well, technically, the Maria Stark Foundation supports the Avengers, not me,” Tony pointed out. 

“And if they didn’t, you’d be paying out of pocket to keep us operational,” Steve countered. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Tony sighed, planting a foot against a stone to brace himself on the incline. It really was beautiful out here, bugs and hiking boots and sunburn be damned. 

“It’s a good thing you’re doing,” Tony said, “and I think it’s important that the team operate independently. From the UN. From SHIELD.” Tony smirked at the disapproving crease that has appeared between Steve’s eyebrows. “I don’t mean above the law,” he assured, “only beside it. Sometimes it’s nice to know that _someone_ is actually fighting for the greater good, rather than good press and re-elections.” Tony shrugged. “If that means paying out of pocket, then you’re right. I would.”

“I’m glad we have someone like you in our corner,” Steve said, uncomfortably sincere for Tony’s tastes. 

“Like my wallet, you mean,” Tony teased. 

“No,” Steve said, the disapproving look returning once again. “The money… well, we’d manage. There are more important things.”

“Say that again when the Quinjet is out of fuel and Galactus is attacking,” Tony said. 

Steve was quiet for a moment, as though considering whether or not to let the dismissal lie. Eventually, he sighed. “We should head back,” he said. “It’s going to get dark.”

Despite the declaration, Steve didn’t immediately turn around. Instead, he led them further down the path where, eventually, it branched out and curved back around toward the parking lot. Steve clearly knew the trails, despite his claims that he didn’t come down here often.

Tony was pretty sure that it would only be a couple minute’s walk down to the park entrance again if it weren’t for the fact that the trail seemed to wind along what seemed to be the longest and most scenic path imaginable. Someone should really invest in an elevator.

The path had just taken a sharp turn back the way they’d come, the incline slight enough that Tony didn’t need to preoccupy himself as much with watching where he was walking, when he saw it. 

“What is that?” Tony asked, grabbing Steve’s arm to stop him. “Do you see that?”

There was a purple light shining through the trees a short ways down the cliff face, flickering with shadows of movement just out of sight. Whatever it was, it had strayed quite a ways off the beaten path. 

Steve followed his gaze and frowned. “That’s… probably nothing good,” Steve said. 

Tony nodded. It could be something harmless—hikers who had lost sight of the trail, maybe—but Tony couldn’t think of anything that would explain the peculiar purple glow. Something was definitely off.

“I’m going to go check it out,” Steve added, approaching the edge of the cliff and cocking his head to the side. He nodded once, looking satisfied with what he saw. “Wait here for me.” 

“You’re going to climb all the way down there?” Tony asked. 

“Not quite,” Steve said. He planted his foot on the edge of the cliff and jumped.

“Steve!” Tony called after him, hurrying to peer over the edge, but Steve had already disappeared below the treetops.

Tony swore. 

He knew Steve was fine. Captain America had jumped from planes into war zones without so much as a parachute. He could survive a fifteen meter drop without injury. 

Tony, on the other hand, could not. 

He eyed the side of the cliff. His armor was in the trunk of his car. Tony hadn’t thought he would be able to justify to Steve why he was lugging his briefcase along on their hike, and frankly he hadn’t thought he would need it. 

There was no way he could make it all the way down the trail to the car and back in time to be of any use to anyone, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Steve run off all on his own.

It looked like he could climb down, if he was careful. The alternative was running all the way around on the path, but that would take time. Something told Tony that if there was anyone down there, Steve would be getting himself into trouble sooner rather than later.

Tony slid onto his stomach and lowered himself down slowly until his foot hit the ledge a few feet below him. The cliff was sharp but ragged, and the choppy, cracked stone left plenty of handholds. He reached for the first one and started down. Parts of the rock face were spread a little far for his liking, and he had to stretch in order to reach them at points. 

An irrational part of him wished that Steve had waited with him, gone back down around the path or even scaled the cliff face alongside him instead of running off to investigate on his own. He knew it didn’t make sense. As far as Steve knew, he was just Tony Stark, no powers or experience or skills to back him up in a fight. More of a liability in a conflict than an ally. 

Well, it didn’t matter. Superpowers or no, he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay put and twiddle his thumbs. He was running out of hand-holds where he was climbing now, so he reached over to try to shift sideways on the cliff. 

The rock broke away under his fingertips, and Tony yelped and scrambled for another place to grab onto as he swung sideways. His leg scraped along a rough edge, and he hooked his foot around it to steady himself, digging his other hand into the dirt and stone until he was still again, breathing hard. 

He cursed under his breath. That was close. The sun was setting, and it was only going to get more difficult to spot the hand-holds he was looking for in the dark. Steve certainly wasn’t going to wait up for him, either, and Tony would be damned if he left Captain America go without backup just because Tony hadn’t brought his suit. 

No choice but to hurry, then, though he took the time to test each handhold before putting his weight on it from there on. 

It only took Tony a few minutes to make it down the cliff face, but it felt like hours, and his palms were raw and filthy by the time he reached solid ground.

Steve was, understandably, nowhere in sight, but the glow was brighter than ever through the trees. 

He followed the light carefully, mindful of his footsteps in the dark. It looked like they had wandered a ways out into the woods. The incline was steep here, but nothing like the sharp cliffs they’d passed earlier. Still, he had to dig his heels in as he walked, grabbing the occasional crooked-growing sapling for support to keep his footing. Eventually the incline leveled off as the trees thinned, opening into a clearing.

At first the woods were eerily devoid of sound. Tony wasn’t used to this level of silence, interrupted only by the whisper of the trees—it was amazing what a difference a short distance from the city could make, but even this far out there should at least have been some noise from the local wildlife, especially this time at night. Tony made an effort to make his footfalls softer as he crept up on the light, straining to hear anything in the stillness, straining to catch sight of Steve.

Then he heard it, starting at a soft murmur and growing as he approached, a low and ritualistic cadence that sent chills up his spine. Finally breaking the tree line, he edged closer for a look.

There were three kids in the clearing—and they really were just kids, definitely no older than sixteen by the looks of them. One of them turned, gaze sweeping over the trees in front of Tony and past him, and his eyes flashed an ethereal purple in the dark, seeming to drag trails of light behind them like wisps of smoke. He held a dagger tightly in his fist, and it pulsed with the same energy like a beacon, flashing brighter with every word he chanted. 

Magic then, Tony thought bitterly.

Another boy and girl knelt in the dirt, heads bowed in what could have been prayer if not for the fourth boy between them. There were symbols painted on his skin, but Tony couldn’t make them out from where he was standing. His back was pressed flush against an old oak, hands bound behind him. Every few seconds a spark of light flickered barely visible across the space between the teens, like feelers in the dark. The boy stared blankly ahead, unmoved by it all as though in some sort of trance.

All at once, the chanting stopped, and the boy with the dagger raised the blade solemnly over his head.

Tony looked on in horror as he realized what was going on.

This was a sacrifice.

At almost the exact moment that it struck Tony, Steve must have realized it as well, because he stepped out of the trees on the opposite end of the clearing then. The boy with the knife didn’t so much as look up, but the other two did, their heads lifting in perfect unison as their lifeless gazes settled on him.

Steve was on the opposite end of the clearing, but he hardly even had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

“Son, put the knife down,” Steve said. The kid didn’t even look at Steve, but he did pause, standing so still he could have been carved from stone. He looked surreally calm, as though he wasn’t even moderately concerned by Steve’s presence. Steve waited.

The two kneeling in the dirt sprung up from the ground, so suddenly that Steve tensed in surprise, and then they were charging at him, snarling viciously.

They were on him in an instant, their movements incredibly fast, and Steve deflected the first blow as one swung wildly at him. He staggered a little under the force of it and pushed the boy away as he swiveled to keep the girl from getting behind him. Their eyes flashed purple, and Tony saw the dagger pulse with energy. It was affecting them, somehow, making them stronger and… controlling them, maybe, or at least influencing their thoughts somehow. 

The boy with the dagger moved then, and there was no way that Steve would be able to get to him in time, not while trying to keep the two attacking him at bay without seriously hurting them. Tony swore and broke the tree line then, and he saw surprise and—fear?—distress on Steve’s face for the brief second their eyes met before he turned his attention back to the boy with the dagger. 

The boy had raised the blade above his head again, and the air around him looked liquid with the swirling miasma of energy bleeding from the weapon. The other boy wasn’t struggling, Tony wasn’t even sure he was aware of his surroundings in the state he was in. Tony closed the last few feet between them, and then threw himself at the one with the dagger. 

The air felt electric with the energy when Tony grabbed the boy’s arm, throwing his whole body weight into dragging the knife blade away, and he _barely managed it_. The kid was supernaturally strong. The air around him almost burned him with its intensity, and Tony could see the energy radiating from the blade. 

The knife blade sunk into the tree beside the boy, instead of inches to the left and straight into his heart, and Tony used the momentum of the swing to drag it downward, slicing through the ropes binding him there. 

The boy didn’t move, even as the ropes fell away and piled at his feet, and Tony cursed and shoved him back, because he needed to run _now_. 

For the first time, the boy with the dagger seemed to snap into focus. His expression twisted into something savage and vicious, and Tony backpedaled, trying to get out of his reach while still pushing the other boy behind him. The kid was too fast, and he lashed out first with the blade then with his fist. 

The dagger hardly clipped him, just a nick on the arm, but the kid’s fist hit him solidly in the chest. He could feel the chest plate buckle under the force of it—he could only _imagine_ what that might have done to his ribs, or his head. The teen hardly came up to Tony’s shoulder, yet the force behind the blow threw Tony backwards, off his feet, and he had a split second to expect a painful landing on the ground before he slammed into something softer and yielding instead. 

He and Steve skidded a good few feet through the dirt before they both came to a stop. 

“Are you all right?” Steve asked. 

“Jesus,” Tony said, untangling himself from Steve before the man could notice the chest plate hidden beneath his shirt. “Fine. Fuck.”

Tony had narrowly missed slamming into the other two teens instead, and they were advancing on them both now. Steve pulled Tony to his feet and pushed him behind him. 

The boy Tony had cut loose was hovering near the edge of the clearing, clearly confused and not comprehending, but the one with the dagger seemed to have lost all interest in his sacrifice. When Tony turned to look for him, he was staring him down, dagger still clutched between his fingers. 

Whatever this kid was—whatever he was doing—he seemed to be drawing power from the dagger. Tony didn’t usually jump to believing in magic, but no matter _what_ the nature of the dagger’s power was, it was clear that they needed to get it away from him. 

Steve shoved Tony further back, trying to keep him out of the fight, but before either of the two he’d been engaged with could reach them, they stopped short. Whatever energy had been possessing them tore free with an unnatural shriek, and their bodies fell limply to the ground. 

Tony watched as the energy retreated into the dagger, which only glowed brighter, and he wasn’t sure whether he should be happy their enemies’ numbers had dropped from three to one, or worried that whatever they were facing was no longer divided three ways.

Whatever the case, Tony did know that he was worried for the kids—all of them, but the one with the dagger in particular. He had looked unstable before, but was now beginning to come apart entirely. 

The energy looked like it was physically hurting him to contain, spilling over and whipping his clothes to tatters. 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but whatever tongue he spoke in, Tony wasn’t familiar with it, and he wasn’t particularly eager to learn. He could feel the boy’s unsettling gaze on him, ignoring Steve entirely, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from him. Steve seemed to have noticed the boy’s distraction, and circled around him slowly, to attack from the side. 

Steve struck him on the wrist, intending to disarm, but somehow he managed to keep his grip on the dagger—and that really shouldn’t be _possible_ , Tony had seen Steve put his shield through concrete, and even if Steve was holding back to avoid hurting the kid (and he most certainly was) he still should have been able to disarm a fifteen year old with ease.

Steve wasn’t deterred, and a moment later he had the kid pinned, the dagger still clutched between his fingers. Tony thought to warn him not to touch it, that they didn’t know what effect the dagger would have on them, but the kid threw Steve off before he could. 

Steve twisted mid-air and kicked out, aiming for the dagger again. An explosive _crack_ threw Steve backwards as the dagger was torn from the boy’s hand, the shockwave knocking them all off their feet. 

As soon as Tony had regained his footing, he sprinted over to where the boy had collapsed, and kicked the dagger farther away from where it had fallen. The ethereal glow dissipated in a burst of light the moment it bounced away, now separated from it’s host.

Tony knelt beside the boy, and was relieved to find a pulse. Steve came to crouch next to him, equally concerned, and once he’d confirmed that the boy was all right, Steve sighed. 

“That was really reckless,” Steve said, frowning. Tony began to roll his eyes, but Steve continued, “but also incredibly brave.”

Tony grinned at him, surprised by the praise. 

“Please don’t do it again,” Steve added, then paused, “And we really need to work on your hand-to-hand.”

“I think I did all right,” Tony said. Iron Man didn’t have much need for hand-to-hand combat.

Steve sighed again, standing. "This is...not what I had in mind when I suggested hiking," he admitted.

"It's fine," Tony said. "I mean, I'm kinda surprised we made it this far, with our—the Avenger's track record," Tony corrected the slip quickly, but Steve noticed anyway. He frowned at Tony, shifting from Just Steve to Captain America with his "There's a Wrong to be Righted Here" look.

"Our track record," Steve said firmly, misinterpreting why Tony had corrected himself. "You know, just because you don't shrink or fly or shoot repulsor beams doesn't mean you're not a part of our team."

Tony laughed. "Yeah well, I think things might have gone a bit smoother here if Shellhead had tagged along," he said.

The teen that Tony had rescued was still looking confused, though much more coherent, and Tony waved him over. He could see the two that had dropped mid-fight stirring, and could only assume that the last one would recover soon as well. 

Tony leaned down to give the boy a little shake, and he groaned, rolling onto his back. When he opened his eyes, he squinted up at Tony, recognition clear in his eyes. Recognition was replaced with alarm a moment later, and he turned to the side, emptying his stomach violently.

“Nice.” Tony heard one of his friends say behind him, as he helped the kid to stand. 

“You okay?” Tony asked, and the boy hesitated, and only then reluctantly nodded. Tony could see one hell of a bruise on his wrist where Steve had hit him, and more on his knuckles where he’d struck the chest plate, but he didn’t point them out. Instead, he addressed the group. 

“Do you remember what happened here?” The lack of answer was as good as one, and Tony wasn’t surprised when the only answer they could come up with was a reluctant and questioning belief that they were supposed to be _hiking_.

Steve walked over to where the dagger had fallen in the dirt, and Tony followed behind warily. When Steve crouched down to get a closer look, Tony reached out to stop him. 

"Don't touch it," Tony warned. "We don't know how much…” he waved a hand vaguely, “juice it has left."

"Well we can't just leave it," Steve said. He turned to the teens hovering nervously behind them. It was obvious that they were simultaneously afraid they would get in trouble for this, and prepared to defend themselves against any accusations. Instead, Steve pointed to the jacket the boy was wearing, which was essentially rags after being torn up by the energy the dagger was throwing off in its last moments. 

"Can I borrow that?" he asked, as though he fully intended to return the raggedy item when he was done with it.

The teen shrugged the jacket off and handed it over. "It's ruined anyway," he said.

Steve folded the cloth around his hand and then reach out to gingerly prod at the dagger, cautiously as though he expected it to spring back to life and lunge for him. After a moment he nodded to Tony, satisfied that it didn't seem to be teeming with energy like it had been before, he scooped it up in the jacket and wound the fabric tightly around it before tying a loose knot in the sleeves to hold the wrap closed.

“Where did you get this?” Steve asked. The group glanced between each other, all of them looking lost. There was a long pause as they tried to recall where they’d found it.

“It’s.. mine. I’m pretty sure.” The one who had been holding the dagger originally raised a tentative hand. “Or, my dad’s. He bought it from an antique shop somewhere in Midtown... I think he was going to hang it on the wall. I found it in the trunk of his car… and…and...”

The kids shared a look, but none of them could fill in the rest. Tony cut them a break, standing and dusting off his pant legs. 

"Do you need a ride home?" Tony asked. They glanced between each other again. 

"We drove here. I think," the kid replied.

“I’m going to need an address for that antique shop,” Steve said. 

“And you should probably get that wrist x-rayed,” Tony added.

“I will,” he promised. “I don’t know the address, though. But I’ll give you our home phone number and you can ask my dad.” He paused. “Um. Just make sure he knows _I_ didn’t do anything.” 

Once Tony agreed, he rattled the number off, and Tony let Steve memorize it. 

“Come on,” Tony said. “Time to go home.” 

 

He’d said it to Steve, but they stayed long enough to see the teens off anyway. Steve led the group back to the parking lot, just as self-assured about what direction they should go in as he had been on the path in daylight. After double-checking that they were all right and planning to head straight home, they saw the kids off. Tony didn’t think there was anything to worry about—they’d all seemed too spooked to want to do anything other than go home to their parents. 

When they were safely on their way, Steve made a bee-line for the driver’s side door. When his hand touched the handle, however, he froze. 

“What?” Tony asked, a little alarmed by the look on Steve’s face.

“You’re bleeding,” Steve said. Tony followed his gaze to his shirt sleeve, already soaked in blood. As soon as he saw the damage, the cut began to ache—and it really wasn’t that serious, honestly—but Steve was already rounding the bumper regardless. 

“Oh. Looks worse than it is,” Tony said, when Steve arrived at his side. “I didn’t even notice it.” Steve paused for a second as though considering how to roll up his sleeve, but the cut was too high on the arm, and he wouldn’t be able to do it comfortably. Tony was about to say as much when Steve reached up, lacing two fingers through the hole, and ripped. 

“Hey,” Tony said, mostly out of surprise. Steve got a good look at the cut—long, thin, but entirely unimpressive as far as battle scars went—before he sighed. 

“I’m sure you can afford a new one,” he teased, and then opened the passenger side door. “Sit. I’m going to bandage this before we go.” He pulled the keys from his pocket, heading for the trunk, and Tony sat obediently. 

“You brought a first aid kit?” he asked.

“We were _hiking_ ,” Steve replied, as though chastising Tony for even questioning it. 

“Right, well,” Tony said, tugging off the shirt as well as he could without aggravating the cut, while still trying to wrestle with his undershirt to keep the chestplate hidden. His arm was already growing stiff, but he would take it gladly over many of the injuries he suffered as Iron Man. “There’s a duffel in the trunk. Grab me a clean shirt.”

Steve straightened, slamming the trunk door with his free hand, a clean shirt and the first aid kit both in the other. “You keep an overnight bag in your trunk?” 

“I like to be prepared,” Tony said, and upon Steve’s expression, oddly _embarrassed_ , Tony laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said, tucking the shirt against his side when it was handed to him, and then turning his injured arm toward the open door. “It’s for business meetings. I couldn’t count how many time’s I’ve had half an hour’s notice to catch a red-eye to Japan or wherever else. This way, I’ve at least got a change of clothes until Pepper can express mail me the rest… or did you think I kept a dry-cleaned suit for all of my morning afters?”

Steve shrugged, smiling slightly, “I wasn’t going to judge.”

Steve had set the dagger down on the floor of the car while he bandaged Tony’s arm. “Here, give me that,” Tony said, gesturing to the dagger. “I’ve got a safe at the office. I can put it there until we figure out what to do with it.” Steve handed the wrapped dagger over, and then circled around to the driver’s seat again. 

Tony pulled the clean shirt on over his undershirt, buckling up as an afterthought. The cloth around the dagger was slightly warm, and Tony imagined the energy it had been giving off earlier, and how flimsy a torn jacket seemed against something like that. 

Steve seemed to be thinking the same thing, glancing at the bundle in Tony’s lap more than once during the drive.

It was dark by the time they finally made it to Stark Industries, and Tony instructed for Steve to make a quick stop so that he could make sure the dagger was safely locked away. Tony didn’t encounter anyone on his way up to the safe, all of his employees either home for the night or locked safely in their offices, burning the midnight oil. 

After that, Steve drove them directly home, and Tony parted with Steve on the stairs—pausing first to give Steve the excuse that Iron Man was away on some personal business, but that Steve could fill him in tomorrow morning when he got back. Tony Stark wasn’t particularly necessary for getting the Avengers up to speed, even if he _had_ been there, and at this point, Tony was so tired and in need of a shower that he didn’t even mind being left out. 

 

Despite the trouble toward the end, Tony had thought the hike would be enough to satisfy whatever part of Steve felt obligated to spend time with him. Apparently, he’d underestimated his resolve.

Tony was just sitting down at his desk, two days later and fresh out of one of the least productive board meetings of the quarter, when Pepper knocked on his door twice, and then let herself in.

“You’ll never guess who I found in my office this morning,” Pepper said. 

Tony sighed. “If this is about the Mason contract, I don’t even want to hear it—” 

“Captain America,” she interrupted. Tony stalled.

“Wait, really?” he asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Apparently he was looking for you, and Bambi sent him my way. You were in a meeting.”

“What did you tell him?” Tony asked. 

“That you were in a meeting,” she said perfunctorily. “Apparently, he wanted to see if you were _free for lunch_.”

“You should have said yes,” Tony said, and Pepper laughed. 

“Oh, no. You’re booked solid for the day, but I told him he could try again tomorrow around one.” She paused, tapping her pen against her chin in thought. “Does he know?”

“Nope,” Tony said. “At least, I hope not.”

“So you’re making friends with the Avengers out of the armor, now?”

Tony shrugged. “We live together. It was bound to happen eventually.” 

Pepper perched herself on the edge of his desk. “This is going to get complicated, Tony.” 

He knew that, of course. He’d known from the beginning that keeping his identities straight would be difficult. He’d known it when he had to re-introduced himself to Steve as Tony Stark, and when he’d had to recruit Happy or Rhodey to put on the suit and pretend to be Iron Man so that he could attend an event as himself. 

“I know what I’m doing,” he said. 

Pepper sighed. “I certainly hope so,” she said, and that seemed to be the end of it, as she pulled the legal pad she was carrying up to eye-level so that she could read off his to-do list for the rest of the day. 

 

 

Tony was prepared the next day, and did his best to clear his schedule enough that he would be able to allow at least an hour for lunch, whether Steve decided to show or not. It was nearing eleven-thirty by the time that he realized that free-time just wasn’t going to happen, and that he was probably going to have enough time for a wonderful lunch of reheated something-from-the-break-room-fridge, if that. He still wasn’t quite convinced that Steve would make an appearance, despite Pepper’s warning, and that was the only thing that kept him from calling Steve to warn him not to bother. 

Of course, that was the moment that Bambi paged his office, sounding noticeably star-struck compared to her usual cool disinterest, to tell him that Captain Rogers was here to see him. Tony considered telling her to send him away, but the least he could do was tell Steve that he was busy himself. 

“Sure, send him in,” Tony said replied, clicking the speaker off again. Maybe he could at least set up a future date... _day_ for lunch, when Tony had less on his plate. Next week, or maybe—

Steve didn’t knock, likely having been told to just go in by Bambi, and when the door swung open, Steve was holding the paper handles of a takeout bag in each hand, maneuvering the door closed with his foot. 

“Pepper warned me that you might be busy,” Steve said, lifting the takeout that he’d brought with him. Tony grinned. He might not have been able to work out his schedule, but at least Steve had thought ahead.

“Captain America saves the day,” Tony said. “This is perfect. I’m in the middle of reviewing the budget for R&D, but…” He shook his sleeve down the wrist, so that he could glance at his watch. “I could probably use a short break. If you don’t mind eating here.” Tony motioned to the chairs opposite his desk, already trying to corral the papers scattered across the surface into some kind of order. 

Steve was half-way through pulling the first takeout container out of the bag when he paused, as though something had just occurred to him. 

“Do you like Indian food?” 

“Love it,” Tony said. The containers smelled heavenly (much better than stealing Pepper’s lunch would have been) and Tony accepted the container Steve handed him while Steve dug into the bag, looking for silverware. “Pepper told me you stopped by yesterday,” Tony said, to fill the silence before it could grow awkward. 

“I should have called ahead,” Steve said. “She said you were in a meeting?”

“Progress report, mostly,” Tony said. “Very interesting stuff. I’m surprised you didn’t stick around.”

“Well, that does sound interesting,” Steve said dryly. “I was actually a little worried that I would be bothering you. I know you’re busy.”

“Not _that_ busy,” Tony considered his current workload. “Usually. It’s been a crazy week.”

“Well, I figured you had to eat sometime,” Steve said. “And honestly… I hardly see you around. I meant to ask you in person last night if it was all right if I dropped by, but every time I checked, you weren’t home.”

“I was working late,” Tony said, which was both true and false. He had stayed in the office until nearly seven ‘o clock, but the rest of his night had been spent running through much more enjoyable test flights for his most recent armor upgrade. “Went straight to bed once I got back.”

“I figured,” Steve said. “That’s why I brought takeout instead of suggesting we go somewhere. I’m not sure what your lunch hour usually is. Next time I’ll call ahead.”

“Next time?” Tony wasn’t sure if he sounded amused or surprised, but Steve seemed to notice the assumption with mild embarrassment. 

“If you’re interested,” he said. 

“You don’t have to eat lunch with me,” Tony said, “I mean I don’t mind the company, but—”

“I’d like to,” Steve said with a finality that made something warm bloom in Tony’s chest. “I’d like to get to know the team better, and I like talking to you.”

“Okay,” Tony said after a moment. He didn’t bother to point out that he wasn’t actually one of the team, because he had an idea of what Steve would think of that suggestion already. He didn’t really _want_ to say no—Tony would take whatever chance he had to spend time with Steve, and if Steve had some misguided sense of duty inspiring him to spend time with Tony… well, the man had to eat anyway, so it really wasn’t that selfish to say yes.

“You can usually drop by around noon, if you have the time,” Tony ventured. “Pepper’s always trying to get me out of the office for lunch, anyway. For some weird reason she doesn’t like me picking off her food.”

“Good to know,” Steve said, reclining slightly in his chair, and Tony got the distinct impression that he considered it a victory. 

 

Tony wasn’t sure if he would call their interaction after that point more or less bizarre. He was, at least, more expectant of the random interruptions, Steve showing up at the office at odd hours or wandering into whatever room in the mansion that Tony had holed himself up in and dropping down into the seat beside him. 

Sometimes, they would talk business—Avengers or Stark Industries—but mostly their conversations strayed into personal territory. Tony found himself trading stories of past history, and although Tony’s experiences couldn’t possibly be as interesting as the anecdotes from the war that Steve offered, he seemed as earnestly interested in what Tony had to say as he might have been were Tony not carefully omitting anything too Iron Man related—and consequently, anything really worth his interest. 

Steve wouldn’t show every day: a minor incident in Midtown—one that hadn’t even required a full Avenger response, but that had occupied Steve’s attention nonetheless—or plans with friends that Tony hadn’t met, or meetings running too long on Tony's end kept the visits from being anything resembling regular. 

Tony told himself that worked perfectly fine with him; he enjoyed the extra time to get through some of the less high-priority tasks that he’d been allowing to accrue over the beginning of the week, and pointedly focused on _not_ wondering what Steve was up to. 

Perhaps even more odd, was the longer these little visits carried on, the more Tony began to question whether or not Steve had _actually_ meant that he’d wanted to get to know the team. He knew that Iron Man and Steve were closer, but there was arguably _less_ that he knew about him than Tony himself, and yet he hadn’t made any attempt to get to know him more. 

That could have been respect for Iron Man’s privacy… but as far as Tony knew, he hadn’t made the offer to Jan or Hank, nor Wanda and Pietro, who were certainly new enough to the team to warrant the attention. 

So Tony was curious, but he was also selfish, and he really did enjoy spending time with Steve. It was one of the reasons that he’d used to stay up so late, in armor that was not particularly comfortable, on the off chance that he might catch Steve in a chatty mood. 

So. He was curious, but he wasn’t about to draw Steve’s attention to it, either. 

 

Bambi paged Tony a little after one in the afternoon, and Tony had a half-second of dread that someone from R&D was asking for him (he hadn’t even _begun_ to look at their proposal) before she told him that Captain America was here again, asking if he was available for a late lunch. It was just as well—by noon he’d been frustratingly unable to stay focused, finding himself glancing at the clock much too often. Pepper seemed all too happy to shove him out the door when Steve arrived, especially once Tony promised that he would have the proposal reviewed and revisions made by the time she was ready to leave tomorrow afternoon, so that she could walk it down. 

“I hope you’re not too busy,” Steve said, looking a little guiltily over Tony’s shoulder at the truly impressive stack of paperwork on his desk. Tony waved a hand dismissively. 

“Trust me, it’s not going anywhere any time soon,” he said. He tugged on his jacket as he walked. “I was thinking for lunch we could try this diner I’m fond of,” Tony offered. He’d been thinking about where they should go today probably more than was strictly productive, and the diner had seemed like the best idea. The food was surprisingly good for the size of the place, and it never seemed to be impossibly busy, even over lunch. 

Steve smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well—” he said. “I mean, if you’d rather just go to lunch that’s fine. But I was actually thinking we could have something quick at the mansion and then, if you’d like to, I was hoping we could—spar.” 

“Spar,” Tony repeated, chuckling. Steve gave him a look. “Oh, you’re serious.” Tony said. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, letting them out into the lobby. Tony wasn’t sure how Steve had gotten here, but he was willing to bet that he’d walked, so he led the way down to the parking garage. “Steve, somehow I doubt I’ll be much of an opponent for you.”

“What does that matter?” Steve asked. Tony’s parking space was reserved toward the very front of the parking garage, and it was a short walk to his car. 

“Wouldn’t you rather spar with Thor? Or Iron Man?” Tony asked. 

“We don’t have to spar if you don’t want to,” Steve said. He looked a little disappointed, but he pulled open the passenger side door and slid in all the same. “I just thought. Well, nevermind. The diner is fine.” 

“How about we swing by the diner for carryout,” Tony suggested. “And then you can show me all your moves.”

“I’d like that,” Steve said. 

Tony ordered their food to go and headed back to the mansion. They chatted while they ate, and then Tony left the carryout containers to Steve while he went back to his room to change into a t-shirt and sweatpants. They met in the gym, and after a few minutes of warming up they made their way toward the open mats at the back of the room. 

“Have you ever had any training?” Steve asked. 

“Some boxing,” Tony said. “Not much else,” he added, but then, thinking of Iron Man, “but I keep in shape.”

Steve nodded. “That’s what I figured. Okay. I’m going to show you a few things,” he said, and stepped into a stance that Tony vaguely recognized. “Let’s start with something easy.”

Steve was a good teacher, and Tony not nearly as inexperienced as he let Steve believe, so it wasn’t long before Tony had the basics down. 

And if Tony misplaced his feet or his pose, letting Steve nudge him into proper form with careful touches and guiding hands, well. Steve would be suspicious if he didn’t make _any_ mistakes. 

“So I have to ask,” Tony said. Steve had just stepped aside to retrieve his water bottle from the bench behind them, and Tony admired the way his shirt clung to his shoulders, oddly pleased at having managed to work _Captain America_ into a sweat. “Why the sparring?”

“I thought it might be useful,” Steve said. He tossed Tony the other water bottle, without bothering to look at him, and reached for a towel. He set it and the water aside and returned to the middle of the mat.

That didn’t seem like the whole truth, so Tony waited a moment, and sure enough: “You scared the hell out of me the other day,” Steve admitted. “When we went hiking. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You were great. But you also could have been seriously injured. Your opponent was a lot stronger than you, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he didn’t have a clue how to fight, you’d have been in a lot of trouble.” 

Tony shifted his stance and threw a punch, and Steve easily blocked it, grabbing his arm and pulling Tony toward him. Tony used the momentum to twist around and try to sweep Steve’s leg, just like he’d showed him. 

Steve easily stepped out of the way, and Tony fell flat on his ass. 

“It occurred to me that for all the time that you spend around the Avengers, you don’t really participate in any of the training,” Steve said. Tony thought back to their last Avengers training session, and the bruise on his hip that had lasted for two weeks, and tried not to make a face. “You should know how to defend yourself.”

“I have Iron Man for that,” Tony pointed out. 

“Not always,” Steve said. He leaned over and offered Tony a hand up. “I just—It would make me feel better.”

“Well, this was fun,” Tony said, and was a little surprised to find that he meant it. “We should do it again. Since it would make you feel better.”

“It would,” Steve said earnestly. Tony shrugged, feeling anything but nonchalant, and forced himself to push the feeling to the back of his mind without analyzing it. If he was a little afraid of what he might find if he did, at least he didn't have to worry too much. It wasn’t going to come up, anyway. 

 

 

 

Tony grabbed his briefcase (for once actually holding papers—the suit was waiting for him in the trunk of his car) and then headed for the stairs. He pushed the half ajar door open with his hip and slipped into the kitchen, flipped on the light underneath the sink and reached into the cabinet for a mug. There was no coffee in the pot, so he dug to the back of the cabinet for the coffee beans. 

He shook the bag and scowled—empty. Who kept leaving the empty container in the cupboard? They were going to have words. Tony sighed and tossed the empty bag into the trash can, and then headed back toward the door. Looked like he would be getting coffee on the go, then. 

Good thing he’d gotten an early start. He’d been hoping to get a jump on his paperwork before heading down to R&D, and it looked like he should have plenty of time to make a coffee run. 

When Tony rounded the corner out of the kitchen, he only just managed to avoid crashing into Steve.

He looked a little rough, though anyone else looking might not notice. The serum made it hard to spot, but he looked less put together than usual, hair slightly mussed and eyes red-rimmed. It was hardly noticeable, honestly, except that Tony—or rather, Iron Man—had seen him like this plenty of times before, late at night in the library when he was too restless to sleep, and thoughts racing too much to be alone. 

Tony would bet money he hadn’t slept well last night, if at all. Some nights, he and Iron Man would sit in the library and keep each other company, or head down to the gym to spar and tire themselves out. But last night Tony had been working late on reviewing the backlog of proposals sent over from R&D, and had hardly had the time to come up for air, let alone to notice Steve up and wandering the halls. 

...Of course, Tony Stark wouldn’t know any of that, so just paused at the doorway and waited for the half-second it took Steve’s brain to catch up and stop, too. 

“Morning, Cap,” Tony said.

“Morning,” Steve said. He glanced at Tony’s briefcase, “Headed out?”

“In a bit,” Tony said. He’d been just on his way out the door, actually, but he could take time for this, first. “If you’re looking for coffee, we’re all out.”

Steve made a pitiful little noise at that, and Tony only just stifled a laugh. He was awake enough to be embarrassed about that a moment later, so Tony just slung an arm over his shoulder, glanced down to double check that Steve was already wearing shoes, and then steered him toward the door.

“Lucky for you I was just on my way to get some,” Tony said cheerfully. “You can join me, if you’d like.”

Steve squinted at him suspiciously. “Weren’t you just on your way to work?”

“Coffee first,” Tony said gravely. “We can walk, if you’d like to? Go somewhere close by?” 

“Sure, just a second,” Steve said, and Tony followed him into the living room. His shield was leaning against the couch, zipped up in the circular bag that Tony had ordered for him—easier to take it out in public, when he didn’t have a giant, red, white, and blue target on his back. 

Tony didn’t comment when Steve grabbed it and headed for the door—he could hardly judge, when he spent so much time walking around with his armor instead of a real briefcase in hand—and the two of them headed down the path and out the front gate. Tony glanced at his watch furtively so that Steve couldn’t see, and decided he could stand to put his paperwork off. It was worth it. 

He glanced at Steve again, out of the corner of his eye. Other than looking a little tired, he looked no worse for wear. But Tony knew better than anyone that looking fine and feeling fine weren’t the same thing, and Steve had always been good at putting on a brave face, even to Iron Man.

Tony let Steve lead the way down the sidewalk, keeping pace just beside him. It was pleasantly warm, even for this early in the morning. The perfect day to spend some time outside, if only Tony wasn’t expected in the office. 

“Any plans for the day?” Tony asked lightly. “You know, once you’re awake.” 

“Sorry,” Steve said, seeming to realize that he’d been spacing out, and Tony waved him off. 

“This is a strange look on you, Cap. You’re usually the first one up.”

“I missed my run this morning,” Steve admitted. He shrugged, looking a little more awake—or at the very least, more relaxed—after a few minutes of sunshine. “So I might try to make it up. But otherwise, no. No plans.” 

Tony stepped out of the way of another pedestrian, and then started for the door to the coffee shop. He was just about to pull it open when Steve froze behind him, hand dropping to his pocket. 

“I don’t have my wallet,” Steve said.

“You remembered the shield, but not your wallet?” Tony teased, and Steve sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. 

“Sorry, I’ll be right back—” He actually turned like he was going to run back to the mansion for it, which—yeah, he probably could run, fetch his wallet, and then run back to meet Tony before the barista had even finished his order, but that didn’t mean Tony was going to let him. Tony caught his shoulder before he could get too far. 

“I think I can afford to spot you. Just this once,” Tony said, steering him back around. Steve looked hesitant, maybe only on principle, but reluctantly held the door open for him as the two of them walked inside. 

The little coffee shop was usually packed with people by the time Tony normally left for work, but this early there were only two other people in line. They ordered their coffee and a couple bagels between them, and then took the table furthest back from the street-side window, where they’d be the least likely to be bothered.

Tony took a sip of his coffee, watching Steve over the rim, and finally gave in to the urge to ask.

“Sleep all right?” Tony tried to keep the question neutral and friendly, so it sounded like innocent small talk. Steve shrugged. 

“Fine,” Steve said. Tony wasn’t really disappointed with that answer—he didn’t figure that Steve would be quite as willing to explain himself to Tony as he was to Iron Man, after all. 

“I, uh,” Steve continued, and Tony glanced up. Steve shrugged again, like he was trying to emphasize how truly unimportant he thought it was, “have trouble sleeping, sometimes. And sometimes I’m up pretty late. I don’t need much sleep, so...” He shrugged a third time, took a bite of his bagel, and left the sentence hanging. 

“I was up pretty late last night, too,” Tony said. “You could...come down to the lab next time,” he found himself saying, “if you’d like the company.”

His lab was scattered with pieces of the armor, new designs, but… well, Steve already knew that Tony Stark maintained Iron Man’s armor for him. It couldn’t hurt to have him around, as long as Steve never caught him in the middle of changing out of the suit. 

Maybe he’d work out a better proximity alarm for the entryway—

“I’d like that,” Steve said. “Usually I just try to tire myself out in the gym, unless Iron Man is around.”

Tony was only half-way through his first bagel, but Steve was working on his second. Tony slipped the extra bagel off his plate and onto napkin, and then pushed it over to Steve’s side of the table. Steve gave him a guilty look, but Tony shrugged. He needed a lot fewer calories than Steve did. 

“Take it,” he said before Steve could protest. “I don’t usually eat breakfast anyway.”

The smile Steve gave him was small but warm, and Tony sipped at his coffee to cover what he was certain would be a ridiculous grin. 

“Maybe you should start,” Steve said. “Jan keeps trying to convince me to eat breakfast with the rest of the team instead of right after my runs. I’m sure she’d be happy if we started joining them.” 

“I’m not usually a breakfast person,” Tony admitted. “I usually just grab something from the break room at work. But Thor does make excellent pancakes.” Tony sipped his coffee, shrugged, and shot Steve a teasing look. “Plus, you could get to know the rest of the team, too, instead of wasting all of your bagels and hiking trips on me.”

Tony could see Steve’s demeanor shift as he considered his meaning, and regretted the joke immediately. He hadn’t meant to bring that up. He _liked_ spending the extra time with Steve. The last thing he wanted to do was give him the idea that it was unwelcome, or that his time was better spent elsewhere. 

Great going, Stark.

Steve rapped his fingers on the outside of his mug, and then set it down with an air of finality. 

“About that. Would you—”

A loud crash resonated down the street, and the ground shook hard enough to rattle the tables. Steve reached out on reflex to steady their cups, and then pushed his seat back. 

“What was that?” Steve asked, leaning toward the window. The noise came again, louder, and the ground shook harder still. People at the back of the cafe were beginning to get nervous, standing from their seats and murmuring worriedly. 

Tony leaned over the table, trying to get a glimpse of what Steve was looking at, at the same time Steve cursed, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him backwards.

“ _Get down_!” he shouted to the room, dragging Tony down with him to the floor. He landed roughly, knocking his head against the table leg, but Steve didn’t seem to notice, just pulled him under the table and threw himself over him. 

The window shattered, and there was a horrible crunch as the wall cracked and splintered inwards, scattering bits of concrete and metal and wood across the tables, the floor. The weight of something heavy settled on the tabletop,and it creaked and groaned, one leg splintering but still miraculously managing to hold under the weight of it. Steve’s arms were braced around his head, and Tony craned his neck around him to get a look. He turned just in time to watch what looked like a _tail_ covered in coarse orange scales, slide free from the wreckage. It dragged up a plume of dust as it left, and a few moments later there was another crash as the tail slammed into the building across the street. 

“What—” Tony choked on the cloud of dust hanging in the air, coughing. “What _was_ that?”

“Looked like a dragon to me,” Steve said. 

“Wait—are you serious?” Tony asked, craning his neck to see.

“Call the Avengers,” Steve said. He slipped his Identicard out of his belt pocket and handed it over to Tony. “Tell them to hurry.”

Steve stood, shaking the debris that had fallen off himself. He brushed a hand through his hair, shaking the dust loose, and stooped to grab his shield. Steve swung his leg over the broken edge of the wall, taking the quickest way to the fight, and then turned back. “And stay off the street,” he advised. 

Tony pushed himself to his knees and leaned out the window, watching Steve run after it. There _was_ a dragon, if that was what you wanted to call it. Other than the scales (and perhaps Steve dashing off to battle, shield raised like some kind of knight) it bore little resemblance to the European dragon depicted in myth. It was grotesque, its face split and pock-marked, with two too many legs, _far too many_ eyes, and a horrible gaping maw of a mouth ringed with needle-like teeth. 

Well, who said Tony had to sit around and let Steve have all the fun? 

He reached for his briefcase on instinct, and then cursed himself. The suitcase armor was in the trunk of his car! He kicked the worthless briefcase further beneath the broken table, where it would hopefully be safe, and then staggered to his feet. He still had Steve’s communicator, and he used it now to call the Avengers to assemble. 

His head hurt, only a nagging pain from when Steve had pushed him to the ground, and Tony ignored it, instead turning toward the rest of the room. He went to the closest person, dragging the half-broken table from on top of her and tossing it aside. 

“Is everyone okay?” he shouted to the room at large, and then stooped down to check on the woman. There were a few assenting calls from the back of the room as Tony felt for her pulse, finding it strong. Overall she looked fine, and had probably just taken a knock to the head. He glanced over his shoulder, wavering for a moment on whether he should move her. Seeing the mangled mess of metal and stone that had once been the storefront sealed it for him. If that thing came back, she’d surely be killed if she stayed here. He carefully, slowly rolled her onto her back and slid his arms underneath her.

Those who hadn’t fled from the shop were huddled toward the back, behind the barista’s bar, and Tony carried her to them. He set the woman down next to one of the employees, head lolling against his knee. “Stay with her,” Tony said to him, and he nodded. “Everyone stays inside until the Avengers have this sorted out, understand?” 

Then he stood, hopping over the bar and moving for the door, following Steve.

“You’re going out there?” the barista called after him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tony assured them. 

There were people running down the sidewalks, moving away from the dragon, and Tony ran out into the middle of the street to avoid them. There were only a few cars left in the road, and he avoided them carefully, not really trusting the drivers to watch where they were going in the chaos.

It took him a moment to spot Steve, and when he finally found him, he bit back a groan. He had somehow crawled up onto the dragon’s back, and was trying to climb higher. The creature had noticed him, and was trying to claw him off with its hind leg, but Steve ducked easily out of the way. The dragon whipped its tail wildly in frustration, tearing through the buildings lining the right side of the street and scattering glass and rubble across the road. Tony ducked reflexively when the tail tore diagonally through the second floor windows and down to street level before sliding back to curl around the dragon’s legs. When its tail had torn through the building across the street, Tony headed towards the wreckage.

He climbed through one of the broken windows of a small crafts shop, stumbling over the wreckage to get inside. The racks had been torn from the wall, scattering merchandise haphazardly across the floor. Tony headed back toward the register counter, planting one foot against the wall and hauling the crushed counter-top aside. 

There was an older woman, perhaps sixty years old huddled underneath. As soon as the way was cleared she scrambled out from the wreckage with a truly impressive show of agility. Tony dropped the counter-top back down, and it kicked up a little plume of plaster dust when it landed. 

“All right?” he asked, and when she nodded, he turned to survey the rest of the shop. “Is there anyone else—” Tony was cut off by a tremendous crash of thunder. The woman nearly leapt out of her skin in surprise, but Tony just sighed in relief. 

“What was that?” she asked. 

“The Avengers,” Tony said. “Now go into the back, and make yourself scarce while they take care of that thing.” 

When he made it to the street again, the Avengers seemed to have things well in hand—and God, now Tony was going to have to come up with another excuse for Iron Man, and pretend he didn’t notice the suspicious looks Jan was pointing his way. The battle would be over long before Tony managed to return with his armor. 

With that thought and a mournful glance at his watch, Tony darted across the street to the next building, ducking inside the sloping doorway and through the debris.

 

When Steve stumbled into his home office that night, Tony was surprised. Tony knew as well as any of them that they were usually dead on their feet after a battle—and judging from Steve’s posture, this was no different. 

“Everything all right?” Tony asked, straightening at his desk. Steve didn’t _look_ injured. 

“Everything’s fine,” Steve said. “I just wanted to apologize for cutting our,” oh God, was he going to say— “coffee short.” 

Tony laughed, and it didn’t sound strained _at all_. “Well, it was hardly your fault. There will be other—coffees.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and Tony could hear the question in his tone. “Tomorrow?”

Tony made a face. “Can’t. I didn’t make it into Stark Industries at all today, so I’m going to have to put in long hours all week if I want to finish before Friday.” At Steve’s blank expression, Tony added, “Friday. The PR thing. _You_ invited _me_.” Technically untrue, since Iron Man was one of the honored guests, but Steve looked abashed at having forgotten, and Tony liked to make him flush. “But we’ll have time to hang out, then.”

This time, it was Steve’s turn to make a face. “You’re assuming the city will still be here by the weekend. With our luck…”

“Come on,” Tony said, laughing despite himself. “No _way_ is that going to happen twice in one week.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Captain_Al](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Al/works) for betaing!

Tony really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. 

The midway at Coney Island was packed with park goers—the usual Saturday evening crowd as well as those that were attending for the events later tonight. The laughter and screams of delight were nearly deafening, and Tony had to lean over until their foreheads were nearly touching in order to hear anything that Steve had to say. 

They were trailing a little behind the rest of the Avengers, who were being dragged around excitedly by Jan and Thor in turns, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Tony was a little disappointed that it was so late already—he only had about an hour more before he would be “called away” on important business. 

Iron Man was expected to make an appearance later tonight, and so Tony had packed the suitcase armor into the trunk of his car, and insisted on driving separately. Sometimes, when an event called for both Tony Stark and Iron Man, there was no smoke and mirrors trick he could pull to be in two places at once. 

Steve inviting Tony to join the team at Coney Island was… nice. Tony’s presence wasn’t really required—tonight was mostly an attempt to garner some good PR for the Avengers, sign a few autographs, talk to some kids (and their parents) to let them know that the Avengers were here to protect them. In exchange for their appearance, the park had promised to donate half of the night’s admission to the local children’s hospitals—a price that the Maria Stark Foundation had promised to match.

Even if it was mostly for show, and they were going to spend much of the later evening posing for photographs and shaking hands, they had at least arrived early enough that they could enjoy themselves beforehand. Of course, because he couldn’t be in two places at once, Tony Stark would be making an early exit so that Iron Man could make an appearance for the main event. 

Tony could have asked Pepper to pull out an LMD, but he had been looking forward to spending some time with the team out of the suit (at least until Iron Man was needed for photographs later that night). 

Iron Man had already informed the group that he would be arriving late, and Tony had arranged for Pepper to call him away on “emergency” business before Iron Man was due to arrive. Steve might be a little disappointed, but he would be even more disappointed in Iron Man if he failed to show up at all. 

It wasn’t the perfect plan—someday someone would wonder why he and Iron Man so rarely showed up in public together—but it should go unnoticed during the rest of the festivities. 

Hank had managed to talk his way out of coming, a fact Jan didn’t appear to be too torn up about, so he must have told her as much beforehand. They’d barely just arrived when she’d first grabbed Wanda by the forearm and dragged her over toward the roller coasters. Hawkeye and Pietro trailed after—both following Wanda, no doubt—and Tony nearly laughed out loud at their calculated disinterest. 

They’d garnered quite a bit of attention—they were all in full costume after all, in anticipation of tonight’s photo shoot—and everyone but Tony had been stopped multiple times with questions and requests for autographs.

After the first couple of trips, Thor had grown bored with the rides. No doubt they paled in comparison to the actual act of flying, or any of the other wonders he’d seen in Asgard. Luckily, fair food came in large portions, and Tony had come with plenty of spending money. 

“Come on,” Steve said, hooking Tony’s elbow with his arm and steering him away from the group. “Let’s go this way.”

Steve led him down the midway, where the path was a little less packed. There were throngs of people moving from booth to booth, carrying inflatable hammers and stuffed animals and other prizes won at the stands. Steve turned his head to watch a woman and her boyfriend walk by, carrying an oversized stuffed alligator, and then turned back to Tony. 

“Want to try?” Steve asked hopefully, as if Tony could refuse him.

The woman running the Milk Bottle Knockdown saw them coming and looked delighted. Tony was sure Captain America was the last person she expected to try her game today. Steve smiled at her when she asked if he’d like to play, pulling out his wallet.

These games were incredibly overpriced, in Tony’s opinion, but they were here to have fun. Steve paid her and picked up one of the softballs from the tray on the counter. The bottles were probably weighted, but he was sure Steve knew that. He also doubted it mattered. Steve had no trouble throwing his shield, and throwing a softball should be no problem for him. 

Steve threw the ball and sent the bottles scattering, as expected. From the look on her face, the woman wasn’t surprised. She clapped for him and pressed a button that caused the sign to light up and chime, probably trying to attract more people to play. 

The woman handed Steve his prize, a lumpily-stuffed teddy bear with a tiny spotted bowtie. Steve thanked her, and then turned to Tony, grinning. 

“For you,” he said. 

“Ooh, you charmer,” Tony joked, taking the bear. “Okay, okay.” He pulled Steve over to the dime toss, and handed him the bear to hold. “Now it’s my turn to show you how it’s done.”

The worker handed Tony a dime with a smarmy grin. “Bet you never seen one of those before, huh?” he asked. 

Tony laughed good-naturedly, not bothered by jab. Steve seemed less amused, eyeing the dime-toss board dubiously. “You know he probably greased the board, right?” he asked pointedly.

The carnie looked incredibly offended, sputtering, but Steve just raised an eyebrow innocently. Tony tried not to laugh at that, fairly certain that Steve was purposefully antagonizing the man. Not that he was wrong; Tony could practically see the board glistening in the sunlight. It didn’t really matter. He could tell even from outside the booth that the table it was standing on was shoddily built and uneven, standing at an angle. 

Tony tossed the dime into the upper right-hand corner, and it slid on the greased surface directly into the center of the board.

Steve whistled, impressed, while the man made a big show of announcing his win. Tony picked a boxy little stuffed robot off the back wall, thinking it appropriate, and handed it to Steve with a grin. “Now we’re even.” 

Steve looked far more charmed than he had any right to be, considering Tony was just recycling one of Steve’s moves. The pleased flush looked good on him, Tony decided. 

“Come on,” Tony said, bumping hips with him as he passed. “I’m starved.”

They made their way down the midway, towards the food vendors. There were a lot more people here, since it was close to dinner time, and they had to walk closer together to keep from getting separated.

It took Tony a moment to notice the screaming, convinced at first that they were the more innocent cries of a park goer enjoying the roller coasters. Then, he noticed the scattered groups of panicked people fleeing for the exits, and thought twice.

“Tony,” Steve said, at the same time that Tony turned toward the source, scanning the crowd for the disturbance. There must have been two dozen of them, ugly red creatures waist high at the most, save for one that Tony could only just see scaling the ferris wheel, which appeared to be at least twice that size. Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him toward one of the park’s side exits, and Tony didn’t argue, mind already on the suitcase in the trunk of his car. 

There was a gust of air, and Steve dropped his hand-or maybe it got knocked aside—as Pietro appeared between them with Steve’s shield in hand, no doubt retrieved from the car. He spared Tony a glance before turning back to Steve. 

“We could use you over here,” he said, and then he was gone again, leaving a rush of air in his wake. 

Steve turned toward Tony, and Tony cut him off before he could say anything. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tony insisted. “Go.” Steve only hesitated a moment before nodding once, holding out the toy in his hands for Tony to take. Tony immediately started toward the exit, trying to give the battleground a wide berth despite it lying immediately between himself and his armor. 

The Avengers were doing a fairly good job of keeping the battle contained, especially considering that they were outnumbered. Thor was preoccupied with the larger creature scaling the ferris wheel, which had a group of guests trapped in their seats, and seemed to be quite a bit more durable than the smaller creatures. 

What those creatures lacked in durability, however, they seemed to make up for in speed and agility. Only Pietro seemed to be able to truly keep up with more than one of them at a time, but Tony was certain that Iron Man would be a match for them, if he could just reach his armor. 

Tony was too close to the battle now to proceed cautiously. Of course, he could always go to one of the alternate exits, but then he wouldn’t be able to reach his armor—not an option he was willing to consider. 

Tony sprinted toward the main gates, ignoring the commotion around him, hoping that the Avengers would keep the creatures distracted. He wasn’t the only one—the other guests were still fleeing en masse as well, even more now that they seemed to be understanding that the battle would be hard-fought, and that they really were in danger here. 

Tony had nearly reached the front of the park, less than one hundred meters from the exit, when one of the things dropped down in front of him, blocking his path and forcing him to pull up short. 

It had landed on all fours, but pushed up onto its hind legs once it landed, and turned bulbous, watery eyes on Tony to consider him. The lengths of its arms had a serrated edge, sharpening into a point like a lance, and its whole body was red and misshapen. 

Tony took an instinctive step back when it rose up onto two legs, already scanning for a way around, when an arrow whistled through the air over his shoulder. It struck the creature in the chest, and on impact the contents of the arrow exploded and expanded around it, spraying small bits of putty over Tony’s shoes. 

The creature wailed once before it was swallowed as the putty expanded. Judging by the way the putty quivered and thrashed it wouldn’t be held for long. 

When Tony glanced back, Hawkeye was firing three more arrows, resigning three more of the monsters to the same temporary fate. 

“What are you doing, Stark?” Hawkeye called.

“I’m,” Tony hesitated. “Uh.”

“Get out of here!” he said. “Before one of those things sees you!”

“Right,” Tony said, already backpedaling toward the parking lot, where most of the civilians were running, but more importantly, where he could get to the suitcase armor that was in the trunk of the car. “I’ll leave the rescuing to the real heroes,” he said, and then, “and I’ll call Iron Man.”

Tony ran around the mound of putty, his shoes sticking slightly on the first few steps. The path to the exit was clear now, save for a handful of park-goers who had turned back to look, some of them holding cameras, all of them gawking and otherwise putting themselves in danger. 

“What are you doing?” Tony shouted, and a handful of them startled. A couple retreated immediately, and Tony shouted for the others to run. One of the photographers paused to snap one more photo, of Tony this time, but they all complied. Tony followed them out of the gate, splitting off toward the parking lot. Tony had parked fairly close; he sprinted for the car.

It was rapidly emptying but by no means empty, especially with the bottleneck that seemed to be forming, but Tony could do nothing to help them other than to help the Avengers hold the threat back until they could escape.

Tony popped the trunk and tossed the stuffed animals inside—he hadn’t even noticed he’d still been carrying them—then grabbed the suitcase armor. He turned back, dodging through people who seemed to look straight through him for all that they were paying attention, and headed back inside the park. He ducked inside the nearest building—a cafe, completely empty barring the food that was still sitting out at the tables, and glanced around to make certain that there was no one hiding nearby.

Tony was all too aware of how completely his cover would be blown if anyone saw him, but he pulled the case open anyway, allowing the pieces to snap into place. He would just have to hope that if anyone _was_ trying to take a photo of him today, they would be too lost in the pandemonium to discover anything important. 

The helmet snapped into place last, and Tony fired the jet boots, aiming for the emergency exit at the back of the cafe. He used a combination of the building and the pandemonium for cover—it wouldn’t do for Iron Man to be seen entering the fight from a random cafe—and once he’d gained sufficient altitude, he looped around to survey the fight. 

The battle had spread out slightly over the park, but it was easy to pick out the bright red creatures. 

“Cap, what have we got?” Tony asked once the comms were online.

“Iron Man,” Cap said, and Tony saw him turn to scan the sky, “where’s Tony?” 

“On his way back to the mansion,” Tony said. Airborne, he could see the full extent of the damage they’d already done. “And probably calling legal as we speak.”

Steve dove to catch his shield on the rebound, ignoring Iron Man’s quip. “These things are fast,” Steve warned, “and if you find a way to put one down for good, I’d love to hear it.” Tony had noticed that their numbers hadn’t dwindled at all—sure, a few seemed slowed (fatigue maybe), shaking off clinging bits of putty from Hawkeye’s arrows or clawing their way out of the debris, but they hadn’t managed to put one down yet. 

“Sure thing, Cap,” Tony promised. He turned toward the ferris wheel. Thor was nowhere to be seen, nor the larger creature he’d been battling with, but there were still riders trapped in the seat and even one brave (stupid) soul who was attempting to climb down on his own. 

Tony made a line for him first, grabbing him under the arms. He yelped and twisted around to see who’d grabbed him, and Tony swooped down next to the closest passenger car. 

“Climb on,” Tony said, “and hurry.” The last part seemed to be unnecessary, as the two teenaged girls all but threw themselves at him the moment he was within reach. It was awkward, and he couldn’t safely carry more than three at once, but there only appeared to be two other seats occupied—a middle aged couple near the top, and what looked like a mother and child, about halfway down the side. 

Tony dropped them as soon as he could and went for the couple next. He’d just popped the safety bar back to free them when his comm crackled, and Steve’s voice shouted in his ear. 

“Iron Man, you’ve got one coming your way—” The last word was accompanied with a soft whoosh of air, like he’d only just blocked a blow, and Tony turned back to look. One of the smaller ones was rapidly scaling the bars of the ferris wheel, and Tony bent the safety bar back immediately. 

“Wait here,” he commanded. Without pausing for the couple to agree, Tony dropped toward the other riders, firing a repulsor blast off as he went. The creature shrieked angrily, but didn’t seem to be hurt. Tony turned up the power and fired again, hoping at least to stun it, and immediately turned toward back toward the car, holding a mother and son. 

“Come on—” he said, at the same time the woman shrieked. 

“No, I can’t, I can’t—”

Tony ignored her, bending the safety bar back so quickly that it snapped off at the hinge. Her son, at least, seemed dazzled by the experience and eager in the way only a child could be, and threw open his arms for Tony to pick him up. 

“Come _here_ ,” Tony said, as the woman shrank further back into hysterics, “I’ll take the whole chair if I have to—” 

She shrieked again, this time in an entirely different kind of terror, and Tony had enough time to turn and put both hands up before the creature collided with him. The momentum knocked Tony back, and Tony felt something punch through the armor at the thigh when he collided with the bar beside the seat. The car was swinging wildly now, and that coupled with the woman’s panic was going to be enough to send both her and her now-hysterical son straight down if he didn’t stop them. 

He fired both repulsors, and the thing jerked at the point-blank shot, its grip on Tony slipping slightly, and Tony took advantage of its slip to grab it’s other hand, trying to peel back the fingers. 

It was clinging ferociously to the suit—Tony could actually hear its claws scoring lines through metal and paint as it did. Tony hit it hard with his free hand, trying to knock it free, but it was a lot stronger than he was, even in the suit. 

Before Tony could even fire the jet boots to re-correct, it grabbed him by the arm and threw him. He tore a divot down the midway, too close to the ground to prevent the impact. The thing jumped down after him, the woman and her son seemingly forgotten. 

Tony rolled to the side, firing the jet boots, and just managed to get clear before it landed, climbing into a crouch. He wrenched the counter off of one of the carnival games, swinging it like a bat just as the creature lunged at him again. 

That managed to knock it back, and it tore through the booth with the ferris wheel controls. The ride jerked as though it were going to begin rotating again, and without a railing to stop him, the boy, despite his mother holding him, slipped off the edge. 

She leaned after him without thinking, losing her balance as well, and Tony tore after them both. He caught the pair in an arc, pulling up just short of the ground and dropping them there. 

“Run,” Tony shouted, turning back intent to block the blow he knew must be coming. 

Instead, Tony turned around just in time to see the creature take a hammer to the chest, the force behind the strike enough to send it flying back into a nearby building. The hammer reappeared a moment later, flying back into Thor’s hand, but the creature did not climb out again. 

“Iron Man,” Thor said, “I will get them to safety.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. The woman behind him had already fled, so Tony left Thor to free the last couple, turning his attention to the hole in the side of the dime toss stand. He approached it cautiously, but soon found that he hadn’t needed to. The creature was unconscious, and—

It lurched, clearly not awake but writhing as spasms shook its frame. There was a flash, so bright that it momentarily blinded him, and Tony brought a hand up to shield his view. 

“What the hell…” Tony said. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, and once it had, his heart skipped a beat. In the debris where the creature had been lying a moment ago, lay a little girl, no older than ten years old. Her t-shirt read “Tappan Zee Elementary School” and appeared to be to commemorate the class trip. If that was true, then—

“Avengers,” he said urgently, opening a channel to all of them, “don’t hurt them. They’re just children.” 

Tony scanned the girl with his armor, and immediately it confirmed life signs. Tony breathed a sigh of relief when she came back with a clean bill of health—she was a little bruised, but apparently that other form had been just as hardy as it seemed. Tony shuddered to think what might have been if they’d hit her any harder. 

“What do you mean, children?” Steve said. 

“Might be magic,” Tony said, picking the girl up. He flew over to where Thor was helping the couple he’d just freed to the ground, and handed the girl to the man. “I’m not sure, but as soon as this one fell unconscious, she reverted back.”

Tony turned to Thor. “What happened to the bigger one you were fighting?” 

“I felled the beast with my hammer,” Thor said. “It didn’t appear to be human.”

“It took a few seconds to turn back,” Tony said, and Thor nodded.

“I did not stay with it for more than a moment,” he said. “I will find the beast and look for myself.”

“We’re barely keeping up with these things as is,” Pietro said, “and now you’re telling us we have to _go easy_ on them?” 

“Disable, only,” Steve said, “absolutely _do not kill them_.” There was a loud clang, the sound of something colliding solidly with the shield, “Iron Man, we could use some air support.” 

“On it, Cap,” Tony said, “But my repulsors are only strong enough to stun them.”

“That may be all we need,” Steve said. He sounded breathless, and now that Tony was airborne he could see why. The fight had been slowly migrating away from them, but the field in which they were fighting was growing smaller, the creatures all seemingly drawn toward the Avengers. 

Tony suspected Wanda had something to do with that, her arms thrown out to her sides, magic sparking across her fingers. 

“Wanda, can’t you pull out the air around them?” Hawkeye said. He was firing arrows from the top of one of the roller coaster's loading platforms, trying to prevent any of the creatures from climbing up with him. Tony dropped in, firing a repulsor at half-full at each of the ones climbing the wooden supports toward him. They jerked and dropped, momentarily stunned, and Hawkeye took the opportunity to fire another putty arrow, trapping them. “Knock them out that way?”

He let another arrow fly, and it whizzed past Tony’s armor to plant itself in the ground where Pietro had just been standing. The resulting flashbang stunned one more of them, but stunning these things was only going to work for so long. 

“That was one of the first things I tried,” Wanda said through grit teeth, “and trying again would require that I drop the hex that is keeping them contained.”

“The last thing we need is all of these things tearing through the city,” Pietro said. He was running between them, working partly to distract but pausing to trade a few blows when it was safe to do so. Even at his speed, it seemed to be having little effect. 

“Pietro’s right,” Tony said. There appeared to be as many as there had been to start, and Tony quickly realized that the only person who seemed to actually make any progress was Thor. One of them was advancing on Steve from behind, and Tony dropped into a low tackle, using the momentum from the drop and the jet boots to knock it to the side. 

They landed just beside a second one, and when Tony tried to stand one latched onto his leg, its claws finding a good hold in the gash in the armor there. Tony swore, the claws sinking into his leg, and the thing drew its arm back, wielding the sharp point like a lance. 

Steve’s shield zinged just overhead, knocking the arm aside and putting the thing off balance enough to Tony to free himself. He’d barely gotten a meter off the ground before the second one had grabbed him, and with impressive strength, flung the armor out over the yard. 

Tony landed on Pietro, and the two of rolled to a stop a few yards away.

“Hawkeye’s down,” Jan reported, while Tony was still trying to gain his bearings, the dust still settling around him. “Unconscious,” she added, a moment later, and Tony turned the helmet to look in time to see her fire her stingers at full power, straight into the eyes of the creature. It reared back for a moment, just enough time for her to rip three arrows out of the quiver on Hawkeye’s back and jam them into the chest of one of the creatures. 

One broke on impact—a normal arrow—and the other two exploded in a combination of light and putty. Jan dropped to kneel beside Hawkeye again. She was bleeding pretty heavily from a gash on her shoulder, staining a dark patch in her already red costume. 

“He’s out, Cap,” she said, and then turned him onto his back to drag him by the arms out of harm’s way. He’d be an unappealing target in the ride operator’s booth, but they were down a man—two, until Thor returned.

It struck Tony then, with a growing sense of dread: they were losing this fight.

Tony saw the creature’s attentions shifting as Wanda dropped in the dirt beside her brother, helping him to his feet. Her hexes required intense focus, especially ones this large; she didn’t appear to notice that it was weakening, with her attention on Pietro.

“Wanda,” Tony coughed, struggling to his feet. It was a little hard to breathe—bruised ribs, most likely, the chestplate was dented—and he didn’t want to think what Pietro was feeling. Right now, it was more important that—

“Wanda, look sharp,” Steve shouted. She looked surprised, realizing her mistake, and immediately tried to stabilize it, but she was exhausted, blood and sweat matted her hair to her forehead. “Pietro, Wasp, try to draw their attention. Iron Man, don’t let them get out of the park—”

Steve was already sprinting for the exit, where a couple of them were making a dash, having realized they were no longer caged. They seemed easy enough to distract, though it was impossible to hold their attention for long. 

Pietro had already rolled to his feet, arm cradled around his ribs. Tony left him there, firing the jet boots at full to get ahead of the furthest of them. 

No matter what Steve said, he wasn’t going to be able to physically keep these things in the park, especially not on his own. Maybe he would be able to slow them down, but it would only be temporary, and as long as they were holding back, even Thor would only be able to stop these things one at a time. 

Tony went for the first one head-on, but it saw him coming. These things were too fast for him, even in the armor, and the creature swung an arm around, the serrated edge scoring a line down the front of the chestplate as Tony lept back just in time.

“Cap, we need a new strategy!” He turned to look at Steve, but Steve’s gaze was fixed behind him. 

“Iron Man look out!” Something collided with the back of the armor, tearing through a layer of metal just shy of skin and pinning him to the ground. Tony tried to roll them over, but it was fighting him, and it must have damaged one of the connectors this time, because he could feel the power to his left arm failing. Damned that he didn’t notice it sneaking up on him, despite the proximity alarms. He was exhausted, distracted, and—

A green blur slammed into the monster’s side, wrenching it off of him, and Pietro and it both tumbled together across the ground. Pietro kicked it in the chest, too quickly for Tony to count the blows, but it had grabbed a fistfull of his suit and wasn’t about to let go.

Tony raised his repulsor, but it sputtered and sizzled. He swore and pushed himself to his feet, scrabbling at the exposed wires on his wrist, trying to close the circuit. 

Pietro kicked out again, and the monster caught the leg, lifting him off the ground. It threw him, and Pietro made a choked noise when he hit the wall, slumping. It was practically on top of him in a moment, grisly claws gouging the ground as it lunged after him.

 _Shit, shit, shit_. In Tony’s palm, the repulsor whined, trying to charge, but he could feel it overheating, burning his hand, it wasn’t going to work—

“Pietro!” Wanda screamed.

She clenched her fists, energy spilling from between her fingers, pouring over her, but her eyes were fixed on Pietro, even as the energy whipped her hair up into a frenzy around her. 

She threw her arms wide, and the energy that poured from her was suddenly alive, crackling and streaking from her palms, the hex more powerful than Tony had ever seen.

The shockwave knocked Tony to his knees, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding glare, raising his forearm to block some of the light. 

He blinked the spots from his vision several moments later. The fairground had gone silent.

Wanda was kneeling next to Pietro, rolling him gingerly onto his back. Behind her, a child lay sleeping peacefully, returned to normal.

Pietro was unconscious. Wanda looked—shocked, panicked—uncertain. Tony hadn’t known she was capable of a hex sphere that large or that powerful, and from her expression, she hadn’t known either. 

“Wanda,” Tony said, breathless. “My god...”

“Iron Man?” Steve asked. 

“I’m all right,” he said, forcing himself to stand under his own power. Well, the armor’s power, anyway.

Tony surveyed the damage. Now that the children had all returned to normal, Tony realized they were all wearing the same school uniform. The bravest of the first responders were beginning to appear at the park gates, encouraged by the silence following the battle. Steve waved them forward. Behind them, Thor dropped to the ground, carrying a woman limp in his arms.

“What was that?” Tony asked Steve quietly, tilting his head in Wanda’s direction. 

“I think—she’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for,” Steve said. They shared a look, and then Steve took a step forward. “I’m going to see if the paramedics need any help.”

They were taking Pietro and Hawkeye to the hospital. Jan and Wanda were already planning to go with them, but Tony doubted they would appreciate if the entire team tried to tag along.

“I’d better get back to the mansion before I run out of juice,” Tony said, tapping his chest plate where the occasional spark was still nipping across the exposed wires on his torso. 

“Take care of yourself, Iron Man,” Steve said. Then Steve turned his attention away, gaze lingering briefly on the parking lot before melding into the crowd.

 

He flew back to the mansion, stripped the armor off and left it on the workshop floor. He’d have to send Happy back for the car, because Iron Man wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

The entire right leg would need to be scrapped. The repairs would be lengthy, and he was lucky that the jetboot hadn’t been lost in the damage. One of the creatures had left a nasty-looking cut in his thigh by exploiting that damage, and Tony stopped in the workshop bathroom to stick a bandage on it. Tony Stark couldn’t be seen bleeding from Iron Man’s injuries.

His hands shook as he taped the gauze over his thigh, but Tony ignored it. The old outfit was trashed, and he threw it in the garbage. His dug through what spare clothes he’d stored in the workshop until he found a similar outfit to replace it.

Tony had just done up his belt when he heard the front door open and close. He snatched his jacket off the bench and shoved the armor out of sight, then awkwardly jogged-shuffled-hobbled to the door. Technically the other Avengers had access, if they really needed it, but they respected Iron Man’s privacy enough not to come down here without an invitation. Tony was thankful for it, left the armor where it was, and locked the door behind him.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, Tony straightened his gait to hide his limp as Steve spotted him.

“Tony!” Steve said. “Is Iron Man—”

“In the ‘shop,” Tony said. “The armor’s pretty banged up, but it looks superficial.” A total lie—gutting that mess was going to take _hours_.

Steve visibly relaxed. He set his shield down in the middle of the floor, where it wobbled in lazy circles until it rattled to a stop. He looked absolutely exhausted, hair sticking up every which way from the cowl, face streaked with dirt. Tony sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. 

“And the others?” Tony asked. 

“Hospital. Nothing serious,” he added quickly. “Just banged up a bit. Clint and Pietro needed to be checked for concussions, Pietro wrenched his knee,” Steve paused and toed his shield out of the way, where people were less likely to trip on it, “Wanda and Jan are there with them now. Thor left, didn’t say why, and...I just wanted to check up on Iron Man,” he finished lamely, eyeing the workshop door. 

With a closed door between him and his objective, Steve stood a bit awkwardly in the middle of the living room, at a loss for what to do next. Tony gave him a reassuring smile.

“Iron Man is fine. Just needs a wrench and a nap. But I’ll tell him you were asking after him,” Tony said. “Why don’t you go clean up? And I’ll make us something to eat.”

Steve nodded, satisfied with that plan. “Thanks Tony,” he said. 

“And Tony?” Steve called, and Tony turned back. “I’m sorry about...all of that,” he said. Tony stared at him, confused for a moment, and then smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, Cap,” he said, waving dismissively. “All in a day’s work, right? You’ve gotta expect these things when you’re a...when you’re with the Avengers.”

Steve laughed at that, but his eyes were light. “A bit more demanding than a 9-to-5 job,” he said.

Tony shrugged. “What can you do?”

Steve nodded, ran his fingers through his hair, grimaced at the grit. “I’m gonna…” he gestured vaguely for the shower. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be in the kitchen,” Tony said. He waited until Steve had made his way to the top of the stairs, listened for his footsteps down the hall, and then limped to the kitchen.

Tony turned the corner, clenched his leg above the knee, and slid down the wall to the floor.

 

 

The paper the next morning had a full front-cover spread detailing the millions in damages done to the park during what was supposed to be a family-friendly event. Tony took a frustrated sip from his mug and set it down a little too hard. Coffee slopped over the lip onto a picture of the warped body of the ferris wheel. 

The Avengers’s heroic rescue earned them a small mention on page three, but at least they weren’t blaming the mess on them...entirely. It was less than ideal, considering the whole purpose of the event had been to get _good_ press for the Avengers. 

He mopped up the spilled coffee with a napkin and then tucked the paper under his arm, planning to stash it somewhere in the lab. He doubted he could keep the rest of the team from seeing it, but he could at least put it off. It was too early for Steve’s guilty doe eyes.

Tony took the paper and his coffee and headed towards his workshop. From the kitchen, Jarvis spotted him making his escape and pressed a plate into his hands as he passed. Tony mumbled a thanks and shifted his coffee to his other hand to take it. 

The sooner they smoothed this over, the better. The media was very one-track-minded, especially when it came to superheroes. Property damage was old hat in the city. The trick was balancing the destruction with enough reminders of the good the Avengers did in the meanwhile. 

He wasn’t expected at Stark Industries today, but Pepper should be in the office. Tony set the plate down on the bench and snagged the phone from the cradle. Pepper answered on the second ring.

“Miss me already?” she asked. Tony could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Always,” Tony said without missing a beat. “How’s it looking on the front?”

“Surprisingly quiet,” she said. He could hear papers shuffling in the background. “We’ve had a couple calls asking if we plan on assisting with repairs or if we’re leaving it to the taxpayers. You saw this morning’s paper?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” Tony said. He dragged the paper over to him, smoothed out the wrinkles around the coffee stain. “I was wondering if you had any ideas for smoothing this over—”

“Charity gala, next Tuesday,” she said. “I already sent the invitations, so pick out a nice suit. And bring Jan, at least. It’s last minute, so I was a bit ambitious with the invites, in case we have some no-shows. There will be plenty of people to entertain, and before you suggest it: I will be at home on Tuesday, in my pajamas, eating ice cream, so don’t even try me.”

Tony grinned. “Aw, Pep. What would I do without you?” he asked.

“Oh, find someone else to bedevil, I’m sure,” she said. The line crackled, and Tony could imagine her sitting with the reciever pinned against her shoulder, pen in hand. “But you’d miss my glowing personality.”

“And your frightening efficiency,” he agreed. 

“And my good looks,” Pepper added, while they were on a roll. She hummed and clicked her tongue. “My nine o’ clock is here,” she said apologetically. “Stay off that leg. I don’t want to have to wheel you around in a chair tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony said, just to hear her snort a laugh. She hung up on him before he could say anything else cheeky. 

Tony smiled to himself for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the newspaper. He drummed his fingers against the table as he skimmed the article once more while he picked at his breakfast. 

The armor was waiting for him, spread out on the bench. He still needed to run a full diagnostic before he could start repairs. And then he had an efficiency report from R&D, and a healthy stack of paperwork to sign for Bambi. 

He wondered was Steve was up to.

 

 

 

It was nice to be able to attend a party with people he was actually _interested_ in talking to every now and then, and it was for a good cause as well. He’d convinced the team to come as a sort of press stunt, to get them back in the people’s good graces, especially after their last major battle had ended so horribly, with property damage stretching all throughout Coney Island and a number of rather unflattering pictures circulating through the media. 

By the time Tony finished his dinner, the rest of the Avengers had already pushed back their plates—five thousand dollars apiece, and Tony was careful to keep _that_ number away from the rest of the team, lest they think twice about coming. 

The rest of the team seemed to be holding their own in the small-talk department, and even Hank, who had done everything short of begging Jan to let him skip the event, seemed to be enjoying himself at least a little, trailing along behind Jan while she schmoozed with the crowds. 

Steve had been talking to a pretty brunette for the past forty-five minutes, and Tony carefully wasn’t acknowledging that he had been keeping track for that long. He wasn’t… jealous, per se. Because that would imply he had a reason or even the right to be jealous, which he didn't. 

Steve glanced his direction, and Tony turned pointedly back to the man that was perched on a stool beside him. He was a couple years younger than Tony, but he was clearly interested. He’d had a hand on Tony’s knee for the past fifteen minutes, and seemed quite encouraged by the fact that Tony hadn’t removed it. 

He was interesting, at least, and had been telling Tony about preparing to defend his thesis, and while Tony was completely over the hassle of university, he was nice enough. Unfortunately, their night would have to stop here, since taking anyone home was much more trouble than it was worth when Tony had to try to explain away the chestplate or, at least, explain why the clothes had to stay on. 

Tony had been just about to call out the hand sliding further up his thigh, when he heard a throat clear behind him, recognizing it immediately. The hand disappeared though, and the man wore a mixed look of pride and embarrassment. 

“Steve,” Tony greeted, and he noticed right away that the woman he’d been talking to was nowhere to be seen. 

“Jan and Hank are ready to go,” Steve said. “I think Wanda already left.” 

She had, about a half an hour ago, and Tony had chosen not to comment because from her expressions as they slipped out the door, she was trying to be sneaky. She was probably off to look in on Pietro, who had used his knee brace as an excuse to get out of attending altogether.

“I’ll leave with you, then,” Tony said, and Steve looked surprised to hear it. 

“Oh, but you’re not…” he trailed off, glancing at Tony’s conversation partner.

“It was nice meeting you,” Tony said, and the man shrugged easily in return, perhaps realizing that Tony wasn’t all that interested after all. He hopped up from the bar, picking up his drink as he went.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” Steve said, uncertainly. Tony could clearly see that he was withholding a question. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, sliding it over his shoulders. “He’s too young for me, anyway.” 

Steve, curiously, looked pleased to hear it, but he didn’t give Tony a chance ask why. 

“I was thinking on walking,” Steve said. “It’s a nice night, and Hank’s insisting on taking the car by his lab.” That was quite a bit out of their way, and even a quick trip with Hank could easily turn into a couple of hours. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony said. They shared a private smile as they slipped out of the crowded party and into the night air.

 

 

 

Iron Man had settled on the patio, where he and Steve occasionally sat to play chess. He twirled a rook between his fingers. He had probably spent more time eyeing the door than he had actually looking at the chessboard in front of him. He couldn’t help it; he’d been full of nervous energy all morning. Steve had asked Tony if he knew where Iron Man was and...he had seemed preoccupied. Tony could only imagine it had something to do with what happened last night, at the gala. Tony had suggested he might find Iron Man here, and then had rushed to change into the armor so as not to make a liar of himself. But Steve was taking _forever_ —

The door opened, finally, shocking Tony out of his thoughts. Externally, Iron Man certainly didn’t show it, barely reacting with a twitch to Steve’s entrance.

“Oh, Iron Man,” Steve said, as though it was a pleasant surprise to see him, as though he hadn’t been searching for him for hours. Tony smiled behind his mask and wordlessly shifted the chess pieces back into their starting positions.

“Morning, Cap,” Tony said, as casually as he could manage. He moved another white chess piece on the board in front of him, eyeing Steve without turning his head. Steve stepped up beside him, regarding the board for a moment, before he moved one of the black pieces. Steve was a good opponent for Tony. He never played the way that Tony would expect, never made the moves Tony would make—he made the game challenging.

Steve didn’t mention he’d been looking for him, sliding into the seat in front of Iron Man as though he’d been sitting there all morning. They traded a couple more moves, Steve settling in the seat across from Tony, before Tony cleared his throat. The noise didn’t translate well through the armor’s speakers, but Steve glanced up anyway. 

“You seem preoccupied,” Tony prompted, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. 

Steve looked a little reluctant the say, probably after having all morning to dwell on it.

“I wanted to ask, well,” Steve paused, and Tony could see the silent sigh shake his shoulders when he changed gears. “No, nevermind. It’s nothing.” If anything, Tony was only more curious.

“Clearly not,” Tony pointed out, and then, “check.” Steve’s mind was obviously not on the game. Steve considered for a moment, eyes on the board though it was clearly not the object of his distraction. After a few moments Tony saw him steel himself, tip over his king in forfeit, and look directly at Iron Man.

“I wanted to ask you about Tony,” he said, “but I don’t want you to think you have to answer me anything. I know he’s your boss, and—”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Tony said, barely able to keep the amusement out of his voice. Steve seemed to notice regardless, his eyes narrowing slightly and, to Tony’s surprise, his shoulder drooping as though in anticipation of bad news to come. 

“He mentioned that he was interested in both men and women,” Steve said, plowing through the phrase as though afraid he’d lose his nerve. Tony paused, but more was not forthcoming. He _had_ said that, though only in passing, and he’d hardly expected Steve to be the type of person to get hung up on an admission like that. 

“If you’ve come here to ask me to say it isn’t so, you’re going to be disappointed,” Tony said, feeling his indignation rising despite himself. 

“No,” Steve assured him, and Tony felt a little of his unease settle. “Well. I mostly was wondering—”

“Spit it out, Cap,” Tony said, amusement seeping back into his tone. “I’m going gray over here.”

“”— _if you two were involved._ ” He must have taken Tony’s stunned silence for confusion, because he clarified. “Romantically, that is.”

“What on Earth would make you think that?” Tony asked, laughing openly now despite himself, but Steve didn’t seem embarrassed or offended—only relieved. 

“You’re very close,” he said, simply.

“ _You and I_ are very close,” Tony pointed out. “And Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts. Or Rhodey, for that matter.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know them well enough to ask.”

“And you couldn’t just ask Mr. Stark himself, because...?” Tony asked, not at all expecting the peculiar expression to cross Steve’s features, the color rising in his cheeks, almost as though—

“Don’t tell me _you’re_ interested?” Tony had meant it to sound sly, teasing, in character for Iron Man, but to his own ears it only sounded as disbelieving as he felt. 

“And why is that such a shock?” Steve said, somewhat crossly, this time taking offence at the tone on Tony’s behalf. “He’s good looking. Smart. Good company—”

Tony tried to suppress the rush of pride that came with the praise, and cut Steve off before he could embarrass Tony further with the kind of openness that he would have never shown in Tony’s company. 

“You’ve just—never given any indication,” Tony said neutrally, resisting the urge to grab Steve by the shoulders, scream for him to go confess, now. He wondered how suspicious it would be for Tony Stark to suddenly express his own interest, so soon after Steve’s conversation with Iron Man, and if Steve would suspect he was Iron Man or only assume that Iron Man was terrible at keeping secrets. 

“I never knew I had a chance,” Steve replied, and it was all Tony could do to keep from bursting out laughing at how absurd that was.

“Oh, I think you have more than a chance,” he said, as neutrally as he could manage, and turned his gaze back to the game.

 

 

Steve didn’t so much as hold a conversation with Tony for three days. Considering the circumstances, Tony thought he should be awarded a medal for the sheer amount of self control he’d displayed over those days. The only thing that kept him from throwing caution to the wind, other than the _very_ slight nervousness that maybe Steve had changed his mind or realized that what he was feeling that not genuine, was the fact that he wanted Steve to be able to trust Iron Man implicitly. 

Needed him to, really, and Tony just couldn’t risk the chance that Steve would stop trusting Iron Man if he thought that he had let Steve’s private admission slip to his employer. 

So instead, Tony made sure that he was as _available as possible_ and tried to press back his growing irritation as Steve continued to skirt around him—not really avoiding him, but not seeking him out either, simply going about his business as usual. 

And if he thought that he might have caught Steve staring, once or twice, well. That was all that was keeping him from losing his carefully cultivated resolve. 

When Steve caught him in the kitchen halfway through the fourth day, looking nervous but determined, it was all Tony could do to keep from agreeing to his request _before_ he had the chance to make it. 

Instead he sipped his coffee, deliberately, and made a point not to look up while Steve stared at the contents of the refrigerator for so long that he probably could have gathered his ingredients and cooked a meal by the time he finally shut the door.

(The suspense was killing him).

“Tony,” Steve said, finally, and Tony had to resist the urge to sigh in relief.. Steve seemed determined not to lose his resolve, and rushed straight to the point. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? Sometime this week?” 

He looked so completely hopeful that Tony didn’t even bother to suppress his grin. 

“Absolutely,” he said, easily and without hesitation. Steve’s expression faltered, flicking between that same hopeful optimism and trepidation. 

“When I say dinner,” he said cautiously, “I meant. A date. Not as friends. Or, not _only_ as friends.” 

“Yes. That’s what people usually mean, when they invite someone to dinner,” Tony laughed, realizing that he’d agreed perhaps _too_ readily, and that Steve had taken his immediate response to be no different than any of the other times he’d agreed to spend time with Steve—as friends, hanging out, getting to know each other. Perhaps he’d been a little too eager, but then, as Steve had said to him, he hadn’t known that he had a chance before now. 

Steve brightened considerably when Tony said this, and Tony, glad that the confusion had passed, pressed on.

“I’ll call Bambi and ask her about my schedule for later this week. Although I think Friday would be a pretty safe bet.”

“Friday is fine,” Steve agreed, grinning ear to ear now.

“Still better check first,” Tony said. “The last thing I need to do is make her job difficult. Well, more difficult than I already do.”

“You have to at least have a couple free hours?” Steve said, voice questioning, a small smirk on his lips.

Tony snapped his fingers. “That’s what you’d think! But let me tell you, the building could be falling down around our ears, and Bambi would still find a way to squeeze in another meeting,” Tony said.

“Is that an actual concern?” Steve asked. 

Tony shrugged. He’d mostly been joking, but, well.... “Sure. Kind of comes with the territory of being a superhero...benefactor,” Tony said. 

“We’re putting you in danger,” Steve said flatly. 

“Oh, no.” Tony waved dismissively. “I’m plenty safe,” he said. “That’s what the bodyguard is for, isn’t it?”

“The bodyguard the Avengers borrow on a regular basis,” Steve pointed out. 

“I’m flattered you’re worried about me,” Tony teased. “But I think the odds of Iron Man being with the Avengers when I need him elsewhere are pretty low.”

Steve was silent for a moment. “You should have an Identicard,” he said. 

“What?” Tony asked. 

“You should have one, in case you’re in trouble and you need to call the Avengers.”

“That’s really not necessary,” he said. Iron Man already had an Identicard. “I’m not an Avenger—”

“You are,” Steve said fiercely. “You’re just as much a part of this team as I am.” 

It wouldn’t be that hard to make a card for himself, even if it was redundant. He supposed he would just need to be careful about when the tracker was broadcasting his location, in case someone noticed Tony Stark popping up where Iron Man should have been. Still, it was doable. 

“If it would make you happy,” Tony agreed with a shrug, and Steve grinned at him, much more charming than he gave himself credit for.

“It would,” Steve said. 

 

 

Rhodey showed up at the mansion at noon on Friday, about thirty minutes before Tony had to leave for a meeting at Stark Industries. He suspected that Pepper had something to do with this, since he had admittedly already called her twice today asking for advice. He… really didn’t want to mess this up, and while he was reasonably certain that Steve wasn’t going to care what he was wearing or whether or not his tie matched his cufflinks, Tony always felt more comfortable when he was appropriately dressed. 

And, honestly, judging by the state of his mind all day, he was going to do whatever possible to ease his frayed nerves. 

“Help me,” Tony said, and Rhodey only stared at him for a moment before he sighed and stepped inside. “And quick, shut the door.”

“Help you with what, exactly?” Rhodey asked. “Pepper said you were having a crisis.”

“I have a date tonight,” Tony said. 

Rhodey gave him a flat look. “And since when has that ever been a point of anxiety with you?”

“It’s with Steve?” Tony offered, and he wondered for a moment if he should be offended at the knowing “ah” that Rhodey replied with. Rhodey walked over to the bed, grabbed the first matching set of jacket, shirt, and tie that was lying there, and thrust them into Tony’s arms.

“There, problem solved,” he said.

“No, problem _not_ solved, you didn’t even _look_ ,” Tony said. 

“Tony,” Rhodey sighed, placing both hands on his shoulders and shaking him theatrically. “You and I both know that Captain America could care less whether you’re wearing a suit or a jacket. Hell, I’d suggest you pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt if I didn’t suspect you’ve already made reservations to the most expensive restaurant you could find.”

“I didn’t—”

Rhodey let him go, smirking, and took a step back. “Cap’s a good guy and, admittedly, not _nearly_ as high-maintenance as you are—” he said, ignoring the way Tony scoffed, “but you’re going to shoot yourself in the foot in you get all hung up on being impressive. Just be your normal self.”

“My normal, charming, self,” Tony said.

“Your occasionally charming self. You would be more charming if you weren’t worrying Pepper enough that she called me. She thinks you’re going to skip your meeting. At noon. Twenty-five minutes from now.”

“I wasn’t going to skip anything,” Tony said. “And you didn’t have to come.”

Rhodey shrugged. “I was already here. Pepper and I are having lunch.”

“Really?” Tony asked, “When? I’ll join you.”

“Twenty-five minutes,” Rhodey said. “And I’m told you’re not invited. Because you have a meeting.”

Tony gave one last look at the many shirts and ties he had painstakingly laid out over the bed, before sighing in defeat. He moved the lot back to the closet to consider later.

“Fine,” Tony said. “Are you driving?” 

“I took a cab,” Rhodey said. 

Tony led the way down the hall, toward the stairs, and quickly turned toward the garage before he could think twice about leaving without completely preparing for his date, despite the fact that he technically hadn’t fully prepared for his _meeting_ , which was admittedly a more immediate concern. 

Tony picked the first car he came across, since he probably didn’t have time to call Happy to pick him up, and he wanted to be able to leave early, if necessary. 

It took them ten minutes to drive the office, and only a couple more for Tony to park. By the time he’d run upstairs, gotten the files he needed and the coffee he needed even more, he was just barely early enough to take a few moments to prepare and read over Pepper’s notes. 

 

Four hours later, they had covered nearly everything they’d planned to cover, and Tony had set up two subgroup meetings with R&D and Accounting to iron out the kinks. He was hoping to break early—it was only four thirty, he could probably get home and change with time to spare—when a deep rumble shook the building, rattling the table and sloshing Tony’s now-cold coffee onto the tabletop. 

“What the—hell?” Tony said, when the floor shook again, slightly stronger this time. He was already headed toward to intercom on the wall when Bambi’s voice cut into the meeting room. 

“Mr. Stark, security just called, they’re evacuating the building.” The room burst into frantic chatter, as board members jumped up from their seats in alarm. 

“What for, Bambi?” Tony said, and god, just this once couldn’t she say something normal like an earthquake or hurricane—

“There’s a supervillain in the lobby,” she said. Tony didn’t think it would be much use to ask which one. That was all the rest of the board members needed to scatter for the door. 

“Stay away from the elevators,” Tony called after them, and then headed for the stairs himself. His office was one floor above, the suitcase armor propped against his desk where he’d left it that morning, and he ran into Bambi on the steps. 

“Mr. Stark,” she said, “Where on earth are you going?”

“Don’t worry about me, Bambi,” Tony said. “I’m right behind you.” 

She didn’t look like she believed him. Tony patted her reassuringly on the arm and quickly hurried on before she could argue.

Tony didn’t pass another soul on his way to the office, though there were doors standing open to indicate that they’d only just left. His suitcase armor was exactly where he’d left it, and Tony hurried to grab it. 

He wasn’t particularly happy about having to go out his office window in order to get to the lobby, since anyone who stopped to think about it might realize that Iron Man hadn’t been _in_ Tony’s office just previously, but he couldn’t worry about that now. 

Especially with the tiny tremors still shaking the building. Tony was becoming increasingly worried that there would be serious structural damage, especially if whoever it was downstairs damaged something load bearing.

Tony, now fully armored, lept from the window without a second thought, allowing himself to freefall only a moment before the jetboots kicked in, propelling him even faster toward the ground. 

When he arrived at the lobby, it was to the Wrecking Crew doing a remarkable job of holding up to their name. Tony didn’t know what they wanted, but he _did_ know that there were still a lot of people trying to get out of the building (who would hopefully have the good sense not to use the front exit) and a couple of civilians even trapped in the lobby with them. 

“Hey,” he called, letting the sound amplify through the speakers, “this is private property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” As soon as they realized who it was, the two employees cowering behind the front desk made a break for the stairs. Building security waited only a moment more. Thankfully, no one seemed to be injured (although the lobby was going to need some serious redecorating, and Tony didn’t look forward to the bill.

“Iron Man,” Wrecker said, “Where’s Stark?”

So they were after Tony Stark, then? But _why_ were they after him? As far as Tony knew, it couldn’t be a vendetta thing—Spider-Man had been the reason for their last trip to prison, not him—and it wasn’t like they were the kidnapping or corporate espionage type of supervillains. 

“Now what kind of bodyguard would I be if I told you that?” Tony asked. He didn’t see what business they had with Tony Stark, unless they’d hatched some half-baked plan to rob him, but even that seemed unlikely. He didn’t get the chance to ask, as Thunderball took Tony’s reply as an invitation to strike, swinging the enormous ball and chain around to catch im in the side. 

Tony rolled in the air, letting the ball glance off the arm and crash into the marble flooring instead. If they were here for Tony, he probably wasn’t going to be able to draw this fight into the streets, so he needed to try to wrap things up quickly. 

Tony could handle the Wrecking Crew easily. Doing so with minimal property damage… required a little more finesse. Tony fired a repulsor at wrecker, knocking him back into his companion, so that when the giant wrecking ball sailed past him, it came just short of connecting, and Tony was able to catch the chain on the other end. 

Another repulsor with his free hand knocked Wrecker down completely, the crowbar in his hand clattering to the ground beside him. 

Tony dropped to the ground, planting a foot and yanking with all his strength to swing Thunderball, too slow to think to let go of the other end, around. 

He landed on piledriver with a solid thunk. The armor registered Bulldozer approaching and Tony let him, adjusting his stance enough to take the hit, so that when he was tackled from the side, he only slid a few inches before he managed to catch traction. In one smooth movement he put him on the ground with the rest of them. Maybe Steve’s sparring lessons were more useful than he’d thought.

Tony grabbed the ball and chain that Thunderball had been swinging around earlier, and wound it around the three of them, leaving Wrecker aside. 

He was groaning, groping at his side for the crowbar that was lying four feet away, and making a truly valiant effort to stand. Tony kicked the crowbar further away, just to be certain, and then hauled Wrecker to his feet by his collar. 

“Who sent you?” Tony demanded. 

“What makes you think we—”

“Don’t insult me,” Tony cut him off. “You’re here for a reason. What are you after?” The Wrecker was silent, and so Tony continued. “You know, I’ve noticed a pattern. Wrecking Crew escapes from prison. Wrecking Crew makes some questionable decisions, finds a superhero, then it’s back to prison. I could end that cycle, right here.”

“You wouldn’t. Everyone knows Avengers don’t kill.”

“I’m not going to kill you. Do you know how many prisons there are out there for supervillains a _lot_ scarier than you four? Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll make sure you never see daylight again.”

He hesitated, intent heavy in the air, but Tony could see his cracking. “Now.”

“We never met them. Just an envelope with a job and a bundle of cash. They promised more if we did the job—and consequences if we didn’t.”

“And the job was?” Tony prompted. He saw the Wrecker’s eyes flick over his shoulder and then back up at him as though they’d never wandered. 

“Create a distraction.”

Tony stalled, his grip loosening slightly. 

“For what?” he asked, though the Wrecker only shook his head, unwilling to say. He tried again, shaking him slightly. “Tell me!”

“Good idea, Iron Man. Waste your time here.”

Tony cursed. He was right, of course, and although he didn’t know exactly what they’d been sent to distract from, he did know that they’d been looking for Tony. 

Which probably meant that _Tony_ was the person they were supposed to distract, not Iron Man. Tony dropped Wrecker with the others, careful only to knock him out, and then rocketed upwards, heading for the window standing open in his office. 

It was empty when he arrived, it an every other door around it standing open exactly as they had been when Tony had passed through earlier. So if whomever it was wasn’t interested in getting Tony out of his office, then…

 _The safe_. Tony was tearing down the hall almost before he’d realized it, headed for the stairs. Doors swung back to bang against their frames, papers scattering, and that plus the sound of the armor’s flight would definitely alert whomever he was after that he was coming, but Tony didn’t have time to think about that now. 

When Tony rounded the corner, out of the stairwell and to the hallway, the first thing he noticed was the safe, standing open.

The second, was the silhouette of the man standing at the other end of the hallway, back to the open window. Tony had enough time to recognize the costume—the Ghost, not his typical villain, apart from the fact that he _hated_ Tony Stark and capitalism as a whole. 

Still, his suit’s intangibility was tricky—perfect for infiltration, and the invisibility equally so. 

Tony started down the hallway, foregoing the banter altogether, and kept his eyes and scanners trained on the Ghost—when he switched from intangible to invisible, Tony wanted to be able to keep a bead on him. 

In hindsight, he could kick himself for the single-minded focus, for failing to consider another method of attack. Halfway down the hallway, the Ghost smirked. 

A moment later, the armor registered a soft _beep_ to his left, and then the helmet’s field of view went white with artifacts, streaking as he was thrown against the wall.

 

 

He came to an indeterminate amount of time later—only minutes, according to the armor’s internal clock, but he wasn’t certain if it could be trusted. Pepper was kneeling over him, her skirt and knees covered in dust from the debris. 

“Oh, please, don’t be dead—”

“I’m not—” Pepper gasped, in relief, he hoped, and Tony took a moment to breathe. “I’m fine. I—the Wrecking Crew?”

“Arrested,” Pepper said. “What happened?”

“The Ghost. Set a bomb.”

“You need a doctor. You could have a concussion!”

“Not now,” Tony said. “Armor’s failing. I need to know what was taken.” Tony started to lever himself up, and Pepper let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I’ll look. I have the list—god knows, we won’t be getting any more work done today.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “Are you all right?”

“I was still out to lunch,” Pepper said. She stood primly and dusted the debris from her knees. “I wasn’t even in the building. Rhodey’s downstairs.” She cut him off again before he could reply. “Go charge the chestplate,” she said seriously. “I’ll call you tonight with what I find—or don’t find.”

He nodded, the armor creaking ominously in protest, and fired up the jet boots. 

 

Tony landed heavily on his balcony to his bedroom. It took him longer than it should have to get his fingers to cooperate enough to pull open the sliding glass door. He stumbled over the threshold, foot catching on the lip of the door, and lost his balance. He landed hard on his knees, and the metal banged loudly against the hardwood. So much for subtlety, Stark. He just hoped there was no one around to wonder what the commotion was. He tried to push himself to his feet again, panting hard, and found that he couldn’t. 

He’d waited too long to charge the chest plate. 

There was an outlet on the wall behind the nightstand, and it was all he could do to crawl to it, the armor practically dead weight around him now that his power reserves were nearly gone. His vision was going a little fuzzy on the edges, and Tony pushed that feeling aside and shook himself. Almost there. 

He shoved the nightstand out of the way, and the lamp wobbled precariously as its cord pulled tight before Tony yanked that out of the wall as well. 

Whatever systems had been damaged in the explosion had badly drained the chest plate’s power reserves. His hands were shaking badly, and he fumbled with the clasp that would let him shed the gauntlet of the armor, then the helmet, feeling claustrophobic, before he could draw the charging cord out with clumsy fingers.

He gripped the plug, missed twice, and finally, finally, managed to slot it into the wall outlet. 

Tony gasped, pressing his forehead against the wall and clutching the nightstand with his free hand. His muscles tensed as the current flowed into the chestplate, rapidly pouring in the replace the depleted reserves, and Tony grit his teeth and began to count out the seconds, partly to know when to stop and partly to distract himself from the sensation. 

“There,” he mumbled, and yanked the cord jerkily out of the wall, “That’s...better.” He slumped heavily in the crook between the wall and the bed, chest heaving, and just breathed. 

After a couple of minutes he opened his eyes again, and he might have fallen asleep on the floor for a moment, but he couldn’t very well lay here forever. He unfastened the other gauntlet, first, and then the jet boots, until he’d formed a neat little pile on the floor next to him. Once he’d stripped off all of the armor except for the chestplate, he left it there next to the bed, because he was _tired_ , and he could clean it up later.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. When he was completely convinced that his knees were going to cooperate with him, he let go and made his way across the room. The balcony door was still wide open, and Tony pulled it closed and quickly drew the curtains. Then he crossed over toward the mirror next to the closet, one arm curled protectively around his ribs. 

Tony twisted and pulled down the waistband of his slacks so that he could take a look at the cut on his side. It was situated right along the edge of his hip, curling upwards somewhat on the tail end so that it stopped a good inch above his waistband, where the metal had struck the edge of his chestplate and stopped short. Tony sighed. Wearing a belt was going to be a pain for a while. 

The blood had seeped through his briefs, but not quite through the slacks. They were both torn, though. The stain could probably be taken out and the slacks mended, but that just seemed like more of a hassle than it was worth. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford another. Tony balled the slacks up and tossed them into the trash, pulled a change of clothes from the closet, and then went to get the first aid kit from the master bath.

The cut on his side was deep and angry red around the edges, and the entire area stung like hell. There had been a large rend in armor over the spot, but considering how deep the shard had cut even after punching through the metal, he’d gotten off easy.

The wound had been bleeding sluggishly before, but it had mostly stopped by the time he reached the mansion. He grabbed the peroxide and a cotton swab, hissing through his teeth at the sting when he started to clean it. He probably needed stitches, but he was going to get a call from Pepper asking for his statement about the attack any minute, so he settled on taping on a butterfly bandage and a strip of gauze for now. He was just taping it in place when there was a knock at the door.

Speak of the devil...

He smoothed down the last piece of tape to keep the bandage in place, and then tugged on his trousers. He leaned out into the room, snatching the fresh shirt draped across the back of his chair with his free hand, and kicked the door closed behind him. He tugged it on hastily, hiding the chestplate from view just as the door creaked open. Tony turned, expecting to meet Pepper or Happy with a smile and reassurances, but that smile slipped when he saw Steve standing in the doorway.

“Tony,” Steve said flatly.

“Shit,” Tony breathed. He glanced at the clock and winced when he saw the time. In all the chaos at Stark Industries, he’d completely forgotten their date. Steve was still dressed to go out, though he’d removed his tie and shoes, and Tony winced at the disappointment in his expression. “Steve.”

Tony moved to drag his fingers through his hair, then stopped half-way through the motion and quickly tucked his hands into his pockets. His hands were bloody from patching himself up, and the last thing he needed was to have to explain that now.

“You’re not busy,” Steve said. The implied _so where were you_ hung in the air between them. Tony’s stomach dropped at the hurt in his expression—they hadn’t even gone on a date yet and he was already messing this up.

“No,” Tony admitted. “There was trouble at Stark Industries, and—”

“Trouble?” Steve interrupted, taking a step inside the door. “What kind of trouble?”

“It’s fine. Iron Man handled it,” Tony said. “Anyway, I went to find out what was happening and I completely forgot that—”

“Wait,” Steve stopped him, brow furrowing in confusion. “You went to the building _while it was being attacked_?”

“I never said it was being attacked,” Tony said quickly.

“Wasn’t it?” Steve accused. Tony frowned, and well, yeah, it was, but he hadn’t said as much. What did it matter, anyway? He was a grown man and it was _his_ responsibility. “What were you thinking? You could have been hurt!”

He’d been thinking that there were people in danger, and Iron Man was needed, but Steve couldn’t know that. 

Tony frowned. “I was thinking that that’s _my_ company, Cap, and I can handle myself.” It came out a little more forceful than strictly necessary, but he couldn’t help being defensive when Steve was effectively scolding him. Tony crossed his arms and angled his chin up stubbornly.

“Iron Man already had it handled. Or you could have called the Avengers,” Steve said. “It was reckless.”

“I’m fine,” Tony snapped. “I was already in the building _anyway_. I had a meeting. But, frankly, where I go is none of your business.” 

Steve sighed. “I just worry about you,” he said. “You could have been seriously hurt, and—” Steve took another step inside, and Tony resisted the urge to glance toward the bed, because _fuck_ , he’d left the armor there on the floor, only half-concealed behind the bed and dented all to hell, _bloodied_ , even, and if Steve took one more step into the room he would be able to see it—

“ _Look_ ,” Tony interrupted loudly, and the sharp bite in his voice stopped Steve in his tracks. It also brought a distinct note of hurt back into his expression, though he quickly tried to cover it up. Well. Tony was full of disappointments, today. “I can't argue right now. I need to deal with this, so... maybe it's better if you go.” 

Steve stilled, and then nodded. “If that’s what you want,” he said. 

That was the last thing he wanted, but if he said so now, Steve might come further into the room, might see the torn clothes in the wastebasket or the bloody gash on his side, so he set his jaw and clenched his teeth. 

“It’s what I want,” Tony said. "We can... talk later." Steve nodded again, backpedaling, away from the armor, out of the room. He turned on his heel and grabbed the doorknob, and the latch hardly clicked behind him as he pulled it shut. Tony would have preferred he slam it.

Tony waited a long moment, until the footsteps had receded entirely down the hall. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. “Damn it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll have to excuse any errors—our beta is stuck in the Real Life Mines and we're pretty much helpless without her.

Stark Industries was accustomed to long hours and late nights. One of the traits Tony valued more than anything in his employees was loyalty, and he was never more thankful for it than the day after a supervillain attack. 

Every business in New York had to be prepared for a certain level of supervillainy, but even Tony had to admit that his association with the Avengers and Iron Man made Stark Industries even more of a target. They put up with a lot working for him, so Tony wasn’t sure why he’d been so surprised to hear how far the repairs had progressed in just one night. 

The majority of the plans for rebuilding had already passed under Pepper’s pen. The damage was extensive, and although she’d already hired their usual contractor, it was going to take a while before they could return to business as usual. Tony was thankful that no one had been seriously hurt.

Tony pinned the phone receiver between his head and shoulder to free up his hands. He had a headache, the cut on his side stung fiercely, and he had a hell of a lot of paid leave to sign off on. Between that and figuring out how much the repairs to his building were going to cost him, Tony once again unbelievably, indescribably thankful for Pepper. This sort of thing was a bit below her pay grade since she’d been promoted from his assistant, but he would be hard-pressed to find someone who could do a better job. He hadn’t dared to say no when she’d offered to help with the damage reports, and agreeing to stay home to recover hadn’t seemed like a very difficult trade.

Tony didn’t think he would be very much use in the office tomorrow, anyway. He’d had too much on his mind, his wounds stung, his aching muscles not accounting for the uncomfortable knot that had settled in his chest. 

Guilt and regret were powerful things, and this was going to drive him to distraction. Tony knew he was fully in the wrong, and Steve was almost certainly aware of it as well, especially after he’d stood him up on their date and then gone on to act like an absolute ass for no apparent reason. He needed to apologize. He’d also promised Steve that they would talk, although he was dreading how that conversation would go. 

He also, more pressingly, needed to figure out who had hired the Ghost to attack his office, if anyone, and why. If the target had been Stark Industries, he had thousands of employees who relied on him. If the target had been himself, he was only putting them in danger by returning to the office as though nothing had changed. 

“It’s the damndest thing, Tony,” Pepper said. “They didn’t seem to _take_ anything. I’ve got a whole list of items here we’ve checked off because we either found it or… found _pieces_ of it. So unless they only took a part of something, or you’re keeping things in that safe that I don’t know about—”

Tony sat bolt upright, his hand dropping from his face. It was clear that that had sparked a realization, but Pepper—over the phone, and wrapped up in her status report—didn’t notice the way Tony’s breath hitched. 

“Oh, God. Wait,” Tony interjected, dread striking him solidly at the thought. “Did you find a dagger?”

The knot in his chest twisted like a blade. Tony Stark and Iron Man went hand in hand, so it was natural for his work with the Avengers to bleed over, occasionally putting Stark Industries into danger, but he should have known better than to put his people into unnecessary danger by keeping the dagger in one of his offices. 

“A dagger? Why on Earth—”

“Think hard, Pepper. Maybe someone else found it, or it was broken—”

“No,” she cut him off neatly. There was a moment of pause, where the only noise was the quiet shuffle of paper and Pepper mumbling under her breath on the other line. Tony could almost see her, the receiver of her phone pinched between her shoulder and ear, the cord wound mindlessly around her wrist the way she did when she was deep in concentration. “No, I was there the whole time, and I would remember if we’d found something like that—especially since it _wasn’t on my list_.”

Tony groaned. “I know, I’m sorry—”

“I thought we agreed: no Avenger’s business at the office! It only brings trouble.”

“It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement,” Tony said. 

Pepper scoffed. “Clearly.”

Tony sighed, frustrated. He should never have allowed that dagger to stay at his office. He could have taken it home and put it in his personal safe instead, where it wouldn’t put any of Stark Industries employees in harm’s way. He’d put a lot of people at risk. God, he was such an idiot. And to add insult to injury, without the dagger he was back at square one, with nothing to lead him to whoever was responsible. 

“Are you sure it isn’t there? Maybe it’s still buried,” Tony said.

“I’m sure,” Pepper said. “We’re just starting to clean up here, but I doubt there’s anything left hiding in the debris.” She sighed. “It’s going to be a _long_ night.”

“Go home, Pepper,” Tony said. “And thank you. I need to figure out who did this.”

“What was this dagger supposed to do, anyway?” Pepper asked. Tony could hear the faint crackle as she shifted the phone, probably switching shoulders, and then the faint sound of her scratching something on a pad. 

“We don’t know,” Tony said. “Until right now, I didn’t even know it was important, but…” He paused, changing gears, “tell Bambi I’m in my office in R&D, and that if anyone calls for me, I’m not to be disturbed.”

“ _Are_ you in R &D?” Pepper asked.

“No,” Tony said. “But I need to call an Avengers meeting, and the armor needs repairs. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow. I have to go.”

Tony activated the comms, but left the voice filter off, so that his own voice came through. “Everyone who’s available, meet in the briefing room.”

“Tony? Is there an emergency?” Steve’s voice clipped through the comm. He sounded… unhappy, to say the least, and Tony quickly pushed the irrational disappointment that surged up when Steve responded. Steve _always_ responded to team meetings, and if any of the Avengers needed to be there when Tony broke the news of the dagger being stolen, it would be Steve, whether he was angry with Tony or not. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, heading for the stairs. “But nothing immediate. It’s about the attack on Stark Industries.”

There was a quiet pause. 

“We’ll meet you there,” Steve replied. 

 

 

Tony gingerly made his way to the briefing room, one palm lightly resting over the gauze pad taped beneath his shirt. Be cool, Stark. Act casual, resist the urge to stare at Steve. Don’t wince if it hurts. Don’t pick a fight. He could do this. 

Jan was already sitting at the head of the table, reclined in her chair as the Avengers’ current acting chairwoman. Wanda sat beside her, tracing circles on the table with one immaculately manicured fingernail. Both of them were dressed to go out. Jan smiled at him when he entered the room. He dropped his hands to his side, a far less incriminating pose.

“Tony!” she said. “I heard what happened. I’m glad to see you’re all right.” 

Tony shrugged, “If anyone’s suffering, it’s Pepper. You should see the mess they made—”

There was a whoosh of air behind him, and then Pietro was sitting in the chair beside Wanda. He already looking tired of waiting. 

“How long is this going to take?” he asked. 

“It’s important,” Tony said. He looked up when Steve entered, Hawkeye in tow, and from the expression on Hawkeye’s face, he wasn’t happy about being here either. Admittedly, it _was_ early evening on a Friday.

“I was literally on my way out the door,” Hawkeye grumbled. “I have a date.”

“Is that what you wear on your dates?” Jan asked, eyeing his costume with amusement. 

“I do have my own apartment,” Hawkeye said. “I was going to change. And now I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Tony said. “You may have heard that the Wrecking Crew attacked Stark Industries.”

“Is that all?” Hawkeye said. “I saw that on the news. I thought Iron Man handled it.”

“He did—”

“Say, where is Iron Man?” Jan asked. 

“The armor was pretty banged up,” Tony said, then: “He’s fine,” he added, to quell her look of concern. Hawkeye settled back in his seat and crossed his arms.

Tony pressed on. “The Wrecking Crew was just a distraction,” Tony saw the little frown creasing Steve’s brow at that. “The real target was the safe in my office.”

Steve was the first to connect the dots.

“The dagger?” Steve asked. Tony nodded. 

“Pepper confirmed that it was missing,” he said. “Iron Man caught the Ghost just as he was on his way out, so we know who took it. But I’d bet my life that he was working for someone.”

The Ghost had an anti-capitalist streak a mile wide, and Stark Industries was at the top of his list, so it wasn’t particularly unusual for him to target them. It didn’t quite add up, though. “The Ghost has never had any interest in magic,” Tony said. “Which is why I think it’s likely that someone else hired him to steal it. If the Wrecker hadn’t let their plan slip, we wouldn’t have noticed it was gone until we went back to get it.”

“How did they even know where to find it?” Jan asked. “I thought you said you locked it away as soon as you got back into the city. The only people who should have known about it would have been us.”

“Someone must have been keeping tabs on us,” Steve said.

“You said this dagger had magical properties,” Wanda said. “Perhaps they have ways of tracking it. Is there any chance it’s related to any of the other attacks this month?”

“We _have_ kicked an unusually high amount of magical butt this month,” Jan said. 

“Even if they were related,” Pietro said, and Hawkeye quickly interjected _Which we can’t prove_ “What’s their goal? The only thing they’ve done so far is cause a lot of damage, and steal one little dagger from a safe.”

“It’s a good question,” Tony said. “I wish I had an answer.” 

 

 

 

 

The Avengers filtered out of the meeting room. Steve remained in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table, deep in thought. Jan squeezed Tony’s shoulder lightly as she passed, but she didn’t pry. Tony waited a moment after they’d all left before he spoke. 

“Steve, can we talk?” Tony asked. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Steve said. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Tony said. “I was just—I forgot about our date, and I was…” For a moment, his words failed him. How was he supposed to explain without explaining? Tony shook his head. “Well, there’s no excuse for it anyway. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine, Tony,” he said. “I just wish you would tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked. 

Steve gave him a look, but after a moment he just held up his hands in defeat. “Tony, I trust you. I do. But I feel like you’re not being entirely open with me. I can’t tell if you’re doing it accidentally, or you think I’m stupid—”

“That’s not true—” Tony said. 

“Why did you ask me to leave?” Steve interrupted. Before Tony could come up with an answer, he continued. “That’s what I thought. And it’s fine. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It just...feels like we’re not on the same page. Maybe we’re moving too quickly, I don’t know.”

The words cut through Tony’s gut like a knife. He swallowed hard.

“Maybe,” Tony hedged. He didn’t know what else to say. Steve drummed his fingers on the table again. He looked like he had something more to say. He looked like he had questions. 

He was too good of a person to pry. 

Tony should should follow his lead, give Steve some space. He certainly didn’t owe him anything, least of all a kind word to soothe Tony’s own discomfort. He’d brought this on himself, after all, and wallowing was a small price to pay. He should leave Steve be. If he were a better person, he would have.

“Steve,” Tony said. “Are we okay?”

For a moment, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Then:

“Yeah, Tony,” he said, pushing his seat back. “We’re okay. Let’s just—I’ll see you later, all right? I have to go.”

There was no use lingering in the briefing room any longer. He had very important maintenance work to do on the Iron Man suit. It had nothing to do with the fact that he really, genuinely couldn’t stand to watch Steve make sad eyes at him any longer. This was...yeah, this was for the best, anyway. Maybe he needed to take a step back and think things through before he and Steve got too into...whatever this is. Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Last night was way too close to call. He needed to be more careful if he wanted to keep Iron Man a secret. He needed to decide whether that secret was worth it.

The root of the conflict sat on the lab bench in a slightly mangled heap. The leg plates were a little scuffed, but mostly undamaged. The arms were a little worse for wear. The torso and helmet were the worst off, dented, some slight re-wiring needed to fix the filtration system, and, last but not least, a decent amount of patchwork where shrapnel had punched through the plating. All in all, he estimated that the worst of it would take four or five hours to repair. Thankfully, nothing had been destroyed beyond the point of being able to simply replace broken pieces, and he wouldn’t have to rebuild anything from scratch. Fine-tuning would take a while longer, maybe a day or two, but he could have the armor essentially functional by morning if he put his mind to it. 

That is, if he could manage to focus long enough to work. As it was, he was warring between starting with the leg plates and zoning out on something mindless, or starting with the worst of it and replacing the damaged torso. He knew himself well enough to know that starting with the torso was just going to lead to more brooding about his fight with Steve. If he could even call it a fight. The more he thought through it, the more he felt like a complete jerk for the way he’d brushed Steve off. He’d panicked, and his first instinct had been “be a dick, and it’ll drive Steve away”. Well, it seemed he had good instincts.

He grabbed one of the jet boots from the pile and set it on the center of the table.

A few hours, some coffee, and some tried-and-true “not thinking about the problem and hoping it goes away” seemed to be in order. Tony set the pot to brewing and re-arranged the armor to make himself a little more room. 

At the back of the table, a lumpy teddy bear watched him work. He found his hands wandering toward it, fiddling the soft fabric between his fingers while deep in thought. He mentally tallied how long each of the repairs was going to take, did the math for around when Iron Man’s repairs would be complete.

And while he was at it, Tony promised himself, he would figure out what to do about Steve.

 

 

Eventually he needed to bite the bullet. 

They had no leads on who might be responsible for the theft of the dagger. He couldn’t let an awkward situation interfere with Avengers business.

“Have you seen Cap around?” Tony asked, leaning over the back of the sofa. Jan rested her book in her lap, index finger poised to hold her place. 

“Did he not tell you he was leaving?” she asked. 

The words settled in his stomach like a stone. _Leaving?_

Jan didn’t seemed to notice his alarm. She shrugged. “Falcon called in a favor. He said they’d be gone for the day.”

Oh. That’s what she meant. 

“He must have forgotten to mention it,” Tony said. He leaned back from the couch and buried his hands in his pockets. 

Jan hummed, nodding, and closed her book. “Say!” Jan brightened. “I’ve been meaning to head back to Coney Island, now that they’re getting back to business as usual. Ask around, see if anyone saw anything suspicious, that sort of thing. I don’t know what good it will do, but...would you like to come? You can keep me company.”

Helping Jan would be better than going down to his workshop and fretting over Steve. At least this way he could get his mind off of it for a while.

“Sure,” he agreed.

 

 

They’d re-opened most of the park where the damage had been minimal. A small section of the boardwalk and the area around the ferris wheel were still roped off. Piles of debris had been pushed into unorganized heaps to clear a path to walk for the work crews, but other than that it remained mostly untouched, their efforts going into the most easily salvageable parts of the park first. 

It was the best place for them to start. Jan led him around through an employee entrance, where they were lazily waved through by a twenty-something woman more interested in the textbook on the table in front of her than in keeping the area secure. They were expecting them so they had no trouble getting through. Not just Jan Van Dyne and Tony Stark, but the Wasp and her associate, here on official Avengers business. 

They squeezed past the barricades blocking the normal park goers from the wreckage.

The plan was to start by glancing through the worst of it, looking to see if there was anything to explain what might have caused the children to go berserk. That seemed like a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt to check. If that turned up nothing, they might at least find something to point them in the right direction.

Jan hummed as she walked, her hands in her dress pockets, kicking up stones with her heels. She was in a good mood, glancing over her shoulder to smile at him when she got a little too far ahead. He offered her a weak smile in return, trying not to let his own mood bring her down. 

She wasn’t buying it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Cap?” Jan asked.

She cut straight to the point, not even bothering to pretend that she didn’t know what was on his mind. Was it that obvious? Tony winced at how easy he was to read. He considered his answer and decided that Jan was too smart to accept anything but the truth. “We had a fight,” Tony said. 

“Did you talk about it?” Jan asked. She looked surprised when Tony nodded. He gave her a sour look, feeling like he should be offended, but she just shrugged innocently. Tony paced further down the walkway, the debris crunching beneath his shoes.

“He said we were fine,” Tony said. 

“And _are you_ fine?” Jan asked.

Tony sighed and turned over a piece of the stripped siding with his shoe. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Ah,” Jan said knowingly. “And what is it you’re fighting about?”

Tony made a face. “Let’s not get into it,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Jan said. “Ask me how Hank and I are doing?”

“How are you and Hank doing?” Tony asked, 

“Absolutely wonderful,” she said with a little grin, “but not for lack of trying.”

“Is that your way of saying we’ll work it out?” Tony asked.

“What?” Jan asked. “No, we’re talking about _my_ love life now. Not everything is about you, you know.” She tried to pat him on the arm to soothe his poor ego, and he swatted her away, laughing.

“Here, look at this,” Tony changed the subject. He turned over another piece of siding, sliding it out from under the rest of the pile. There were long claw marks down the length of it, each at least a full palm’s width apart. Jan whistled. 

“They sure tore the place up,” she said. She traced one of the gashes with her index finger. “Now if only we knew where they came from…”

Tony grabbed a piece of fabric from the pile and held it up for her to see. There was a large scorch mark, dead center, from one of Jan’s stingers. 

“So I’m a good shot,” she said. “What’s your point?”

Tony laid the shirt down and pointed at the very edge of the singed spot, where a small part of a graphic design remained in tact. He couldn’t make out what the logo might have been. “More than one of them had this shirt. I remember seeing the kids wearing them...on the news, after.”

“They were all part of the same class trip,” Jan said. 

“Really?” Tony glanced at her, and she nodded. “I didn’t know that.”

“The teacher told one of the first responders, he mentioned it to me… I think he took her statement before she went to the hospital.”

“Do you think we could get a copy of that statement?” Tony asked. 

“Probably. If not, we could always interview her at the source… Send Steve. No one can say no to the stars and stripes.” She eyed him. “Why? Do you think it’s relevant?” She swept an arm out to gesture at the rest of the wreckage, as though to add, _relevant to all of this_. 

Tony stood, folding the remnants of the shirt up, and shrugged. 

“Not a clue,” he said. “Maybe not. If it’s magic, it’s just as possible that it was a random spell, or there was a sorcerer in the crowd that slipped away in the confusion, but… if there is some connection to any of the other attacks the Avengers have been dealing with, we might be able to find it.”

“Maybe,” she agreed with a sigh. “It’s not like we have much else to go on, at this point. I’ll call about the teacher’s statement.” She added the last bit as an afterthought, considering what was left of the battlefield. 

There was a spot of what looked like blood on the side of one of the totaled food carts that Tony distinctly remembered throwing one of the monsters into during the battle. It looked completely normal to Tony, but Jan crouched beside it to collect a sample anyway, for Hank, she explained, just in case the source was biochemical instead of magic. 

Tony doubted as much, after what he had seen, but he couldn’t deny that it would be a relief. Science, he could make sense of. What’s more, it would mean that the ever-increasing number of cases they’d dealt with lately _weren’t_ related after all. Isolated incidents he could handle; the possibility of a something more sinister, controlling from the background, was worrying. 

Tony hoped it was the former, but suspected the latter. He’d been in his business long enough to never trust a coincidence.

Jan seemed to be thinking the same, frowning at the ground as she collected another sample. She sighed heavily and stood, pinching the sample bag shut as she did. 

“I’ve been thinking...If we can’t find a source, or, if there _isn’t_ a source, we might need to prepare for the possibility that this isn’t going to stop. And if the number of large-scale magical attacks continues to grow the way it has, we’re not going to be able to handle the strain.” 

“Well, there’s more than just the Avengers operating out of New York,” Tony said. 

“Even so.” Jan chewed her lip thoughtfully. “We’ll need to think about taking precautions… recruit more members equipped to handle magic. And just increase our numbers in general.”

“You’re talking about expanding the Avengers?” Tony asked.

Jan nodded. “What do you think?”

“ _You’re_ the Avenger’s chairwoman. I’m not even an Avenger,” Tony said. 

Jan elbowed him, shooting him with an exasperated look. 

“I’m not asking your opinion as an Avenger. I’m asking as a friend,” Jan said.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’m not going to disagree with you. More manpower couldn’t hurt, and the Maria Stark Foundation would be happy to help fund a good cause, of course.” 

“Of course,” Jan said, smiling slightly. 

“As for recruiting magic specialists… I doubt we’ll ever convince Strange to join the Avengers.” 

Jan snorted at the thought. “No, probably not. But he’s not the only option. Thor may know some people. Or Wanda…. Well.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I just want to be prepared, in the event that this is the new normal.”

“Here,” Jan held out a handful of the paper sample bags she’d brought with her. “Let’s split up. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

 

 

Searching the amusement park occupied most of the day. Stark Industries paperwork—the every-day kind that had piled up over the last few days while he’d dealt with damage control—occupied his evening and well into the night. Once he’d tackled enough of the stack that he was sure that he could appease Bambi with it, and his eyes and his hand both ached, he finally decided to turn in for the night.

But sleep wasn’t coming. 

The cut on his side stung, and it was just high enough on his hip to rub painfully against the bottom of the chest plate when he laid down. 

He sighed and rolled to his feet. The halls were dark, which meant that Jarvis had already gone to bed. Tony made his way to the library. 

He was having trouble putting his mind to rest. The dagger problem was nagging him. He’d screwed up, been careless, and the bad guys had gotten away with...whatever it was they were up to. He still didn’t have a clue who was behind this, or even where to start looking. That was on him, and now Steve had two reasons to be angry with him—for his carelessness and for standing him up. 

Tony sighed and let himself into the library. The book he’d been reading was still sitting on the armchair, and Tony picked it up if only to occupy his hands. He turned to a random page, wondering what Steve must think of him now. 

Maybe it was better this way. Pepper had been right when she’d predicted things would get complicated between them. Tony was bound to let Steve down one way or another, either as Iron Man or as Tony Stark. Better he learned that now rather than later.

The door opened, and Tony didn’t look up at first, expecting that perhaps Jarvis had come to chase him off to bed. Instead they didn’t say anything, and Tony glanced up. 

“Uh,” Steve said. He paused in the doorway. “I saw the light on. I thought maybe Iron Man…”

Tony closed the book in his lap and studied Steve for a moment. He looked tired, and tense, and if he was looking for Iron Man, it was probably because he wasn’t sleeping well. Tony doubted Steve wanted to see him now. 

“I can go,” Tony offered tiredly, pushing himself up from his chair. 

Steve edged into the room to let Tony through, and then changed his mind and followed him out into the hall. 

“Wait,” he said, and Tony stopped obediently. “You don’t have to leave.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms, and added, “I wanted to talk to you, anyway.” 

“Right. Sure,” Tony said. 

Tony pulled the door closed behind them, just in case their conversation got... loud.

“How’s Falcon?” Tony asked.

“It was good to see him,” Steve said. Then, because Tony’s deflection tactics never seemed to work with Steve: “We, uh, talked. About us.” Steve made a face, like he was just now realizing that he wasn’t sure Tony would be okay with that. Tony shrugged, thinking about his conversation with Jan earlier, “Anyway, it got me thinking.” Steve frowned for a moment, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. The look he got when he was working through a particularly challenging tactical problem, planning his attack. “Do you want this?” Steve asked. 

“What?” Tony asked, incredulous. “Anyone would, Steve—”

“I’m not asking about _anyone_ ,” Steve said. “I’m asking about _you_.”

“Of course!” Tony said, stepping forward, earnest. “ _I_ asked _you_ , remember?”

“Well, you didn’t,” Steve said. 

“Wh—I told you I was sorry,” Tony said. 

“I know,” Steve said. “It’s just…”

“Just what, Steve?”

“You’re infuriating!” Steve said. He gripped Tony’s shoulders, not hard, but fingers tensed. “You’re giving me whiplash. The second I think things are going well you completely shut me out.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair,” Tony said. 

“It’s perfectly fair, and you know it,” Steve said peevishly, less angry this time, more tired. “If this is going to work at all, you need to meet me halfway.”

“Just...tell me what you want from me, Steve!” 

The words left his lips, and Steve’s grip on his shoulders tightened. The atmosphere was tense, frustration bright in Steve’s gaze. Then, suddenly, not quite frustration anymore, but something else; the mood shifted. Their eyes met. 

Oh. 

Tony’s breath caught hot and choking in his throat. He leaned forward, barely hoping, and Steve, god bless him, leaned in with him.

“I just want...” Steve trailed off, and their lips met.

Steve was a surprisingly aggressive kisser, nipping at Tony’s lips, pressing him down into the soft couch cushions. He tasted like toothpaste, his aftershave mostly faded from that morning, so that he smelled faintly minty. The heat of his breath so close to his face was dizzying. “I want to know you’re as serious about this as I am,” he said. 

“I am,” Tony promised, breathless, chasing kisses between the words, “I am, I swear, I am.”

He was making Tony crazy, humming without realizing it, a small and satisfied noise that went straight to his head. He kissed Steve back furiously, distracted. He almost didn’t notice when Steve’s hands slid down to untuck his shirt. Tony made a noise and turned his head aside, breaking the kiss.

“Wait, don’t,” Tony said, catching Steve’s wrists. Steve looked at him, wide-eyed, cheeks flush. “I’ll keep the shirt on, if...if it’s all the same to you. I have...scars.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said, earnest and honest, not a hint of impatience in his voice. Of course.

“I would be more comfortable, all the same,” Tony said. 

“Sure,” Steve shrugged easily, and moved his hands down to Tony’s belt buckle instead. “I hope you don’t have scars down here, too,” he said.

Tony grinned, relieved that Steve wasn’t going to ask him about it. “Nope. Pants are free game,” he said.

“That’s good,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Kissing you is great, but,” he palmed Tony through his slacks, grinning at the way Tony shivered, “I had other things in mind, too.”

Steve leaned up a bit to undo his belt, and Tony did the same, dumping it on the floor next to them. He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and tugged, kicking to free himself of the fabric.Steve sucked a breath between his teeth, fingers brushing carefully over the bandage on Tony’s hip. 

“What’s this?” Steve asked. 

Oh, right. 

“Just a little lab accident,” Tony said quickly. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, “Not a big deal,” he said against Steve’s mouth, “Almost healed.”

“If you say so,” Steve said, sliding his fingers gently of the bare skin at the edge of the bandage. “Stop me if I hurt you.”

Tony pressed his palms flat against Steve’s shoulder blades, elbows hooked under Steve’s arms, and tugged him closer. “I’m not worried,” Tony said.

He could feel the rapid beat of Steve’s pulse against his lips as he pressed his lips against his neck, trailing fevered kisses. The dusting of Steve’s stubble scrapes his cheek. His skin tastes of sweat, salty, and the slightly bitter with the soapy taste of his cologne. Steve tilts his head up unconsciously, baring his throat more, and his whole body shudders when Tony leaves a mark on the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

Steve’s weight on him was heavy, but he didn’t feel trapped. He braced his arms on either side of Tony’s head to hold himself up, working his hips. If he felt the the edge of Tony’s chestplate, he was too distracted to pay it any mind, or maybe too polite to ask. The slide of his skin felt amazing. Tony dug his fingers into the meat of Steve’s shoulders, and Steve grunted at the bite of his fingernails against his skin.

He was a breathtaking sight. His skin was flushed and pink, the curve of his muscles like some kind of sculpture. If there had been any bruises from his mission with Sam, they’d rapidly healed; his skin was flawless. Steve caught him admiring and kissed him. That pulled Tony’s attention to other things—the way Steve’s breath hitched, the arc of his back, his eyes, bright and blue and reverent, god, how was Tony this lucky?

He wasn’t going to last much longer, but then, neither was Steve, breathing hard and coiled like a spring. Tony pulled him close and rocked against him in aborted strokes, riding through to their completion.

He drifted a moment, drowsing, Steve lying over-warm and sticky against his skin. It took an embarrassingly long time for him to convince his eyes to focus, to chase the splotchy light away from his vision. He breathed through his nose. 

Headrush.

Maybe that was why he was about to ruin such a perfect moment. Temporary brain damage due to lack of oxygen. He sighed.

“So,” Tony said, “About...us.” He let the rest of the sentence hang unsaid in the silence that followed. Steve shifted a little, sighed.

He didn’t finish. Instead the silence stretched between them. Tony waited patiently; the prompt was enough, and Steve would decide what he needed to say. He traced a gentle circle on Tony’s shoulder with his thumb, and that small gesture was probably the only thing keeping him from having a complete nervous breakdown as the minutes of silence dragged on while Steve considered his words.

“I stand by what I said, earlier. I wish you could trust me more,” Steve admitted. “But you're right. You’re an adult, and it’s your life.” He wriggled his arm out from underneath Tony and threaded his fingers through his hair, brushing his thumb gently along his hairline. “I’m not going to say I’m happy about it, but… but trust is a two-way street. I can be patient.”

Tony hummed and closed his eyes. Steve’s fingers in his hair felt nice, and his own exhaustion weighed heavy on him. He turned his nose against Steve’s neck and sighed. He wondered how long his patience with Tony would last. He didn’t want to dwell on it. Tony cleared his throat and shifted over a bit closer to the backrest.

 _I do trust you,_ Tony wanted to say, but that wouldn’t be fair to Steve, not with all of the things he’d kept from him, and all the things he was still keeping from him. So he did what he did best. He deflected.

“Not that I’m not comfortable,” Tony said. “But the door is still unlocked, and I’m pretty sure there are better ways to let the rest of the Avengers know. We should probably move to a bedroom.”

Steve chuckled breathlessly, the rise and fall of his chest jarring Tony a little. “We’re doing this all out of order,” he said.

“I’m not complaining,” Tony said. 

“Well, no, but...we haven’t even had a real first date yet,” Steve said plaintively. Tony hesitated. Almost too afraid to ask, not quite sure what he would do if the answer was no.

“There’s a new exhibit opening at the Met next Saturday? We could try again?” Tony suggested.

“I’d like that,” Steve said. “But I don’t know if I want to wait that long.”

“Okay. Lunch tomorrow, then,” Tony said. 

“That’s better,” Steve agreed.

“But you should know, I’m not a put-out-on-the-first-date type. That’s the third date,” Tony said. He leaned in and kissed him, and the low rumble of Steve’s laugher sucked the air from his lungs. “Maybe the second” he amended. “Does dinner count as a date if it’s on the same day as our lunch date?”

“Definitely yes,” Steve said.

 

 

 

Steve slipped out of bed far too early in the morning, tugged on his running shoes, and headed out for a jog. Tony squinted at him blearily until he left, then rolled over into the warm space he’d left behind on the mattress. It didn’t do much good—once he was up, he was up. After a few minutes of staring moodily at his pillow, he huffed and rolled to his feet.

The floors in the workshop were cold. He settled into his chair and tucked his bare feet beneath him while he waited for his coffee to brew. He had an hour and a half before he even needed to think about heading into the office. That left him plenty of time for Avengers business. He fetched his favorite mug, the one with the chip in the handle that fit perfectly against the curve of his index finger, and added far more sugar than was strictly advisable to the drink. 

Tony glanced over his notes from the Coney Island incident. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the Avengers had dealt with so many magical conflicts lately. There had to be some thread that connected them together. 

The school had checked out. Nothing out of the ordinary there. The classes had loaded into their buses, stopped for lunch, then headed to Coney Island for their day trip. It seemed pretty normal. He flipped over the page to glance over the receipts their teacher had provided—convenient for tracking the group’s expenses, and also for putting together a timeline. They’d stopped around 11:42am. That put a few hours between then and the incident. Tony turned the page, then paused, chewing on his lip. He turned the page back over. Traced his finger over the name of the restaurant they’d stopped at. 

Tony abruptly pushed himself up from his seat, stalked over to the desk, and dug through the drawers until he found a map and a phone book. He swept his notes to the side to make room and spread it flat on the table, setting his coffee cup on top of the Bronx Zoo and uncapping his pen with his teeth. 

He found the restaurant and circled it with a red pen. Okay, he thought, let’s see where this goes. He paged through the phone book until he found what he was looking for—a pawn shop, only a half of a block down the street. He circled that as well, wrote the word KNIFE over the spot, and then tapped his pen against the page. He found a jewelry store, across the street. DRAGON. He drew a larger circle around the buildings and paused. 

Some of these buildings were apartments. It was entirely possible that someone living in one of these buildings might be responsible, but...the odds that something like that would go unnoticed for so long seemed unlikely. The source had to be in the area, but somewhere where they could keep a low profile. A private business would be better, but they still ran the risk of curious customers poking their noses in at the wrong time. Tony worked his way through the addresses until he reached a lot one building away from the corner.

He stared at the address. Tapped his pen.

Didn’t he know this place?

Tony scanned through the phone book and found it. An office building, half-completed and abandoned during construction due to poor budget management. The details sparked a memory immediately. The lot had been up for sale and Stark Industries had briefly entertained buying it before investing elsewhere. 

If the lot was still up for sale, it would be empty. Private. An abandoned lot would be gated off to deter trespassers—no one would stumble through unexpectedly.

Tony grabbed the phone.

“Stark Industries offices,” Bambi answered. “Mr. Stark isn’t in right now, but I can take a message or direct your call.”

“Bambi, it’s me,” Tony said. “This is going to be a strange request,” she snorted, and Tony remembered that _strange_ had taken an entirely new meaning for her. “Okay, maybe not that strange. I need you to find some files for me. For a land deal. It probably hasn’t gone through yet.” He gave her the address, and the date just in case. 

“Sure thing,” she said. “Should I send you a copy?”

“No,” Tony said, standing from his desk to gather his things. “Just leave them on my desk, I’ll come pick them up myself.”

 

 

 

The parking garage was almost full when Tony pulled in. He glanced at his watch. It was earlier than he usually came in, but thankfully Bambi had still beat him to the office. If he hurried he might be able to find what he needed and assemble the Avengers before lunch time.

If it was that easy, anyway. He was holding onto hope that this theory actually panned out. Tony threw the car into park and turned off the engine. He locked the car behind him and slid the keys into his pocket. 

There was a car idling in the parking space next to the elevator, separated from the lift by one of the garage’s support columns. Something about it made Tony pause. From where he was standing, it was too far to tell if there was anyone in the driver’s seat, but there was definitely someone sitting on the passenger side. He couldn’t make out who it was from this distance, but Tony could have sworn they’d turned away when he glanced over. 

Most likely it was someone from security taking their break. There was no smoking on any of the Stark Industry properties, but he’d noticed that some of the staff had taken to smoking in their cars during their breaks to avoid having to go all the way outside to the street. Tony wasn’t about to ruin someone’s day by busting them, so he glanced away and headed for the stairs that led to the lobby instead.

Tony stopped on the third stair. Briefcase. He’d forgotten to grab it out of the trunk. He turned around, ready to head back the way he’d come, hand fishing in his pocket for his keys. 

The door slammed open below him, echoing off the walls loud enough to make Tony jump. A man he didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. They both stopped, still, and stared at one another. Tony could feel his heart leaping in his chest.

“Oh,” he said.

The man lunged at him.

Tony balled his fist around his keys and jabbed them into the man’s side, but he hardly even reacted, slamming his hand against the wall to force the keys from his grip. Tony tried to break his hold on his arm, the same way he’d practiced with Steve. Only this time, when he moved to twist free, his grip tightened unbelievably, much stronger than a normal human, and he had one hysteric moment where he thought that Steve must have been _really_ going easy on him, and then he was being yanked around like a rag doll. His keys flew from his grip, clattering on the floor to the corner of the stairwell.

“What the hell—” The man threw him up against the wall, and Tony’s head cracked against the concrete hard enough that he saw stars. Tony didn’t recognize the brute in front of him, except that he appeared remarkably similar to the hulk-like people they’d encountered at Coney Island. 

His forearm was pressed up against Tony’s windpipe, one clubbed fist balled in his shirt to lift him off the ground effortlessly, as though Tony weighed nothing, and Tony couldn’t _breathe_. Tony struggled, but the man seemed completely unconcerned.

He was too strong. Tony brought one hand up, trying to wrench the man’s forearm back far enough for him to breathe.

With his other hand he reached into his pocket, careful not to be seen.

Tony’s vision was starting to go fuzzy around the edges. The man pressed forward a little harder, dragging a choked noise from his throat, and Tony saw spots.

Tony pressed the button on the Identicard, sending out the call to Assemble, and then dropped it on the ground, unable to keep his grip when the man shook him, pressing harder to where Tony was sure he was planning on crushing his windpipe, snapping his neck— 

His vision tunneled. The man smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a quick little update about what we're up to: we’re doing a charity thing for the ACLU, and someone is going to win a 10k fic out of it! [You can find details on my tumblr here.](http://captainshellhead.tumblr.com/post/156603568834/captainshellhead-hey-guys-you-might-have) As such, the prompt from the winner of this raffle will take priority over the next chapter (unless, I suppose, someone requests the next chapter as their prompt, haha). So until then, thanks for your patience!


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